Chapter 2 - The Room With Two Keys
Claire expected iron gates.
She got railway tracks.
The Mercedes followed an abandoned line through wooded hills until an enormous brick station appeared beneath the rain.
Blackstone Terminal.
Built in 1891.
Closed in 1974.
Purchased by Damian Voss twenty years later.
Claire had seen photographs.
They hadn't prepared her.
The old platforms had been enclosed with glass. The ticket hall had become a vast living space filled with leather furniture, bookshelves, and warm lamps.
An antique station clock hung above the fireplace.
It was stopped at 11:17.
"Why doesn't the clock work?" Claire asked.
Damian removed his gloves.
"Because I don't want it to."
Strange answer.
A broad-shouldered woman approached.
"This is Evelyn Shaw," Damian said. "She runs the house."
Evelyn looked Claire over.
"Guest?"
Damian paused.
"Yes."
Claire looked at him sharply.
Patrick hadn't called her a guest.
Damian had bought her.
Evelyn took Claire's backpack.
Claire immediately grabbed it back.
"I can carry it."
Evelyn nodded.
"Good."
Damian started upstairs.
"Come."
Claire followed him along the old station balcony.
Below them, men moved quietly through offices that had once sold train tickets.
Some wore suits.
Others wore shoulder holsters.
Claire counted exits.
Damian noticed.
"Seven."
"What?"
"Exits."
He kept walking.
"You've counted five."
Claire stared at him.
"Where are the other two?"
"Not telling you."
For the first time, she almost smiled.
Almost.
He stopped before a dark green door.
Inside was a bedroom overlooking the abandoned platforms.
A brass bed.
A fireplace.
A bookshelf.
Fresh clothes.
Claire looked toward the bathroom.
Then toward Damian.
Her pulse accelerated.
He placed something on the dresser.
A key.
"That's yours."
"To what?"
"This room."
She stared at him.
"You expect me to lock myself in?"
"I expect you to decide whether you want the door locked."
Damian walked back into the hallway.
Claire followed.
"Wait."
He stopped.
"My father gave me to you."
"Yes."
"You accepted."
"Yes."
"So stop pretending I'm a guest."
Damian slowly turned.
"Your father owed me forty-seven thousand dollars."
"I heard."
"He also owed the Moretti crew eighty-six."
Claire froze.
The Morettis.
Even Patrick had been afraid to mention them.
"They were coming tomorrow morning," Damian continued.
"For him?"
"For both of you."
Claire's voice dropped.
"Why me?"
"Because your father had already promised you to them."
The room seemed to tilt.
"No."
"I have the messages."
"He's horrible, but he wouldn't—"
Damian handed her his phone.
Claire read.
Three messages.
Then a fourth.
Her father's words.
My daughter is young. Take her and wipe the balance.
Claire's hand began trembling.
Damian took the phone back.
"I learned about it yesterday."
"So you bought me first?"
"I bought Patrick's obligation to me."
"You made me part of the payment."
"I needed him to believe that."
"Why?"
"Because if he'd known I was protecting you, he would've sold you twice."
Claire couldn't speak.
Damian stepped away.
"You're not paying your father's debt."
"But at the motel—"
"I needed Patrick's signature."
"On what?"
Damian unfolded the document.
Claire read the first paragraph.
It wasn't ownership.
It wasn't employment.
It wasn't a contract involving her at all.
It transferred Patrick's assets, gambling accounts, and debt obligations to Damian's company.
Claire looked up.
"You tricked him."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because your father isn't the only person who can gamble."
Damian reached into his pocket.
He produced a second key.
He placed it beside hers.
"The outside doors."
Claire stared at it.
"You're giving me a key?"
"I'm giving you a choice."
"Can I leave?"
"Tomorrow."
"Why not now?"
"Because Moretti has men watching every bus station, airport, and highway near Baltimore."
He looked directly into her eyes.
"If you walk out tonight, you'll last twenty minutes."
Claire hated that she believed him.
"What happens tomorrow?"
May you like
"We make you disappear."
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