Page 47 of Razor
I turned to leave, Razor's arm still around my waist, when my father made his final play.
"The money," he called after me, his voice carrying just enough for nearby tables to hear."Is that what this is about?Has he convinced you to sign over your inheritance?Because if that's what he wants—"
Razor stopped, turning slowly back to face my parents.The look on his face must have been devastating because my father actually flinched.
"I didn't know about any inheritance until thirty seconds ago," Razor said, his voice deadly quiet."Don't much care about it now.What I care about is Ophelia.Dante.Their safety.Their happiness."He pulled me closer to his side."Something you never seemed to manage."
My mother's mouth opened, closed, opened again—for perhaps the first time in her life, speechless.My father's face had gone from red to white, his hand unconsciously moving toward the concealed weapon beneath his jacket.
"I wouldn't," Razor advised, his tone almost conversational."Really wouldn't."
My father's hand stilled.
"We're leaving now," I said, finding my voice."Don't call.Don't send lawyers.Don't try to contact Dante.If you want a relationship with us in the future, it will be on our terms, not yours."
I turned away from their stunned faces, Razor's arm steady around me as we walked through the restaurant.Socket fell in behind us, a protective formation that smoothly guided me toward the exit.Outside, Loch straightened as we emerged, his eyes continuously scanning for threats.
"You okay?"Razor asked quietly as we reached the sidewalk.
I looked back at Bellini's, at the restaurant where my parents had brought me countless times to maintain the illusion of a perfect family.Through the window, I could see them still seated at their table, my father's face contorted with rage, my mother dabbing at her eyes with a napkin in a performance of distress for nearby patrons.
"I've never been better," I replied, and meant it.
CHAPTER TEN
Ophelia
I stared at the security monitors, my reflection ghostly in their blue glow as I cycled through camera feeds showing Bellini's restaurant across the street.Socket had set everything up perfectly—six different angles covering every approach, two interior feeds tapped from the restaurant's own system, and one focused directly on the corner table where my parents would sit.The small office suite felt like a command center, with laptops, communication devices, and the non-lethal baton Razor had insisted I keep within reach at all times.I'd been here three hours already, watching, waiting, my nerves fraying as the minute hand ticked closer to my parents' reservation time.
"Movement at the east entrance," Socket announced from his position at the laptop beside me."Black Mercedes.That's their standard car service."
My pulse quickened as the sleek vehicle pulled to a stop.The driver emerged, circling around to open the rear door with practiced deference.My father stepped out first, his expensive suit a dark contrast against the evening light, then extended his hand to help my mother.Even through the grainy footage, I could make out her perfect posture, her carefully arranged expression of calm superiority.
"They're early," I murmured, checking my watch."Dad's never early.He's making a point."
Socket nodded, typing rapidly as he relayed the information through our secure channel."Razor confirms he's in position.Pierce is covering the stairwell to this building.Everything's locked down."
But something felt wrong.My parents moved with too much confidence, their faces lacking the tension that should accompany a high-stakes confrontation.My mother actually smiled as they approached the restaurant entrance—not her public facade smile, but the genuine one I'd seen so rarely growing up, the one that only appeared when she'd outmaneuvered someone.
"Check the perimeter again," I said, unable to shake the growing unease crawling up my spine.
Socket switched to the exterior cameras of our building."All clear on the west side.Nothing at the service entrance."He toggled to another view."Wait—is that—"
The screen flickered once, twice, then dissolved into static.My stomach dropped as a second monitor went dark, then a third.Within seconds, every security feed was gone, replaced by snow and electronic noise.
"What the hell?"Socket's fingers flew across the keyboard."This is high-end equipment.It doesn't just fail like—"
His phone rang, cutting through the tension.He answered, his face darkening as he listened."Say again?When?"He stood abruptly."I've got to check the relay box downstairs.Stay here, lock the door behind me."
"What's happening?"I demanded, panic rising in my throat.
"Interference pattern on all our frequencies.Someone's jamming us."He grabbed his sidearm from the table."Lock the door.I'll be back in five."
The heavy door closed behind him with a final-sounding click.I engaged the deadbolt, then returned to the useless monitors, frantically trying to restore even one feed.Nothing responded.The electronic equipment that had seemed so solid, so reliable minutes ago now felt like broken promises.
My phone rang, the sound making me jump.Unknown number.I almost didn't answer, but some instinct—the same one that had kept me alive through years with Tyler—pushed my finger to accept the call.
"Hello?"
