Chapter 3 - The Guardian’s Secret
The bus was completely engulfed in terrified screams and hysterical sobbing as passengers scrambled for the front doors. Dominic kept his gun pinned against Marcus's temple, kneeling down to rip the man's phone from his jacket pocket. The screen flashed with an incoming encrypted call simply labeled ""P.V."" Paul was already waiting for confirmation. Dominic tapped the microphone mute button, accepted the call, and listened. Paul’s anxious, greasy voice drifted through the small speaker: ""Is it finished? Tell me the body is cold. I have the board waiting at the docks."" Dominic took a quiet, steady breath, unmuted the phone, and spoke directly into the glass: ""Keep them waiting, Paul. I'm coming home with interest."" He crushed the burner phone beneath his heel before Paul could utter a single word of terror. Dominic spun around, scanning the aisle. June was frozen in sheer panic, clutching her chest, tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks as she stared at the shattered glass and the bleeding bodies on the floor. ""Ellie! Where is my baby? Ellie!"" June cried, her voice cracking with terror. Dominic dropped to one knee, keeping his gun tucked safely behind his hip, and tapped the underside of seat eighteen three times. A tiny pair of brown eyes peeked out from beneath the dark fabric. Ellie crawled out slowly, her red dress slightly dusty, clutching the silver transit token tightly in her tiny fist. ""I stayed quiet,"" she whispered, her lip trembling slightly as she looked at Dominic. ""I didn't make a sound."" Dominic felt an unfamiliar, sharp pang inside his chest—a sudden protective warmth he hadn't experienced since his grandmother had held his hand on this very route decades ago. ""You did great, little one,"" Dominic said, his voice softer than anyone in Philadelphia had heard in twenty years. ""You saved my life."" He lifted her gently and handed her into June's trembling arms. Meanwhile, Walter Bell was busy methodically stripping zip-ties and spare magazines from the unconscious hitmen. Dominic turned to the older man, eyes narrowed with suspicion. ""Who the hell are you really, Walter? My grandfather died in prison thirty years ago."" Walter smiled faintly, tucking a heavy automatic pistol into his khaki waistband. ""Arthur Varrone was a stubborn idiot, but he took a bullet for me in Da Nang back in 1968. Before he died in state prison, he sent me a letter. Told me his grandson was building an empire on South Street and would eventually need someone who knew how to dig graves without leaving footprints. I’ve been sitting two rows behind you every July fourteenth for nine years, Dominic. You just never noticed because you were too busy looking for monsters in front of you."" Outside, sirens began to wail in the far distance, approaching fast from the northbound lanes. ""State troopers,"" Walter warned, peering through the shattered window. ""If you get booked on this bus with three bodies and a registered gun, Paul wins by default. His corrupt precinct captains will have you poisoned in a holding cell before midnight."" Dominic looked at June, who was clutching Ellie while struggling to breathe, terrified and stranded on the highway shoulder. ""They can't stay here,"" Dominic insisted. ""Marcus saw Ellie talk to me. If Paul's crew sweeps this bus, they won't leave witnesses."" Dominic grabbed June's canvas tote bag with one hand and took Ellie's small hand with the other. ""Walter, get us out of here. We move right now.""
