Chapter 12 - THE WRONG RABBIT
Lena screamed Emma’s name before she reached the street.
Bruno caught her by both shoulders.
“Listen to me.”
“My daughter—”
“Listen.”
She tried to shove him off, but he held firm.
Alejandro stood beside them, face stripped of color. Not from illness now. From memory.
Another child.
Another car.
Another call too late.
He took the phone from Bruno.
“Who was guarding the bakery?”
“Marco and Elias.”
“Loyal?”
“I thought so.”
“Thought is not enough.”
Bruno’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
Alejandro turned toward the delivery van.
Lena followed.
Nobody tried to stop her this time.
Police shouted questions. Reporters chased them. Nora Fields called Lena’s name once, then did something smarter than chasing grief.
She turned her camera toward Darren.
The world still needed to see the man who had helped open the door.
The van tore through the city toward Rosa’s bakery.
Lena sat forward, both hands pressed against her mouth. Alejandro sat across from her, silent. Bruno drove.
No one spoke because there were no words large enough.
At 11:24 a.m., they reached the alley.
The bakery’s back door hung open.
Rosa was on the kitchen floor.
Alive.
Bleeding from the scalp.
Lena dropped beside her.
“Where is she?”
Rosa’s eyes fluttered.
“I tried,” she whispered. “Madonna forgive me, I tried.”
“Where is Emma?”
“They came in uniforms. Said Bruno sent them. Marco opened the door.”
Alejandro’s face became deadly still.
“Marco.”
Bruno looked like someone had carved guilt into his bones.
Rosa grabbed Lena’s wrist.
“Emma ran upstairs. She hid. They took the backpack.”
Lena froze.
“What?”
“They took the pink rabbit backpack. I heard one say, ‘We have the child.’ But then…”
Rosa tried to sit up.
Lena held her down.
“But then what?”
A tiny creak sounded above them.
Everyone looked up.
From the ceiling came the softest whisper.
“Mommy?”
Lena made a sound that was almost not human.
She ran up the stairs so fast she nearly fell.
The apartment was destroyed. Cushions ripped open. Dishes broken. Drawers emptied. The couch where Emma had slept was overturned.
“Emma!”
The pantry door opened a crack.
Emma stepped out wearing Rosa’s old flour apron over her pajamas.
No backpack.
No Mr. Bun.
No shoes.
But alive.
Lena fell to her knees and Emma crashed into her arms.
“I played quiet game,” Emma sobbed. “But they took Bunny.”
Lena held her so tightly Emma squeaked.
Alejandro reached the doorway and stopped.
For a moment, he could not enter.
Relief hit him like a wound.
Not dead.
Not taken.
Not this time.
Bruno came up behind him and saw the child.
His knees almost gave.
“Thank God.”
Emma looked over Lena’s shoulder at Alejandro, still crying.
“They took my medicine bag.”
Alejandro’s eyes lowered to the empty space where the rabbit backpack had been.
Then, incredibly, he smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
It was the kind of smile that made Bruno straighten.
“The wrong rabbit,” Alejandro said.
Lena looked up, confused.
“What?”
Alejandro stepped into the room.
“Rafael thinks he has leverage because he has the backpack.”
“He has her medicine,” Lena said.
“We have replacements.”
“He has Mr. Bun.”
Emma sobbed harder.
Alejandro crouched slowly despite the pain.
“Emma.”
She wiped her face.
“Your rabbit is very brave.”
“He’s scared.”
“I know.”
Alejandro looked at Bruno.
“Show her.”
Bruno understood at once.
He pulled out his phone and opened a tracking screen.
Lena stared.
“What is that?”
“When we left the hospital,” Bruno said, “I put a tracker in the rabbit backpack.”
Lena looked from him to Alejandro.
“You knew they might come for her?”
Alejandro’s face darkened.
“I knew Rafael would try.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“If I told you, you would never have left her.”
“You’re right!”
Her anger filled the ruined apartment.
Emma clung to her mother, frightened by the shouting.
Alejandro accepted it.
He deserved worse.
“I used the backpack as bait,” Lena said.
“No,” Alejandro said. “I protected the child and tracked the bait Rafael chose.”
“That is a convenient difference.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
That stopped her.
Most powerful men defended themselves first.
Alejandro did not.
He looked at Emma.
“I am sorry.”
The apology was not grand. Not theatrical. Not for Lena.
For the child.
Emma sniffled.
“Can we get Mr. Bun?”
Alejandro nodded.
“Yes.”
Bruno turned the phone toward them.
A blinking dot moved through the city.
Not north.
Not toward Rafael’s townhouse.
Toward the Moretti estate.
Bruno frowned.
“Why would he take it back there?”
Alejandro stood.
“Because he wants the house to see him holding proof.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed.
“Proof of what?”
“That he has the child,” Alejandro said. “Or that he did.”
The meaning landed slowly.
If Rafael arrived with Emma’s backpack and claimed the child had been taken by Alejandro’s enemies, or worse, killed because Lena and Alejandro exposed him, he could turn the house into war before anyone knew Emma was alive.
Bruno was already moving.
“I’ll assemble men.”
“No,” Alejandro said.
Bruno stopped.
Alejandro looked at the ruined apartment.
Then at Rosa being helped by one of the bakery workers below.
Then at Lena, who still held Emma like the world might reach in and steal her.
“We do not storm the estate.”
“Then what?” Bruno asked.
Alejandro’s gaze sharpened.
“We let Rafael call the meeting.”
Lena stared at him.
“What meeting?”
“The old council,” Bruno said quietly. “If succession is disputed, family captains gather in the main hall.”
Alejandro nodded.
“Rafael wants them to choose him before noon.”
Bruno checked his watch.
11:41 a.m.
Nineteen minutes.
Lena stood with Emma in her arms.
“And you want to walk into that room?”
“I want Rafael to stand in front of every man he lied to while holding a backpack that proves nothing.”
Bruno’s voice lowered.
“You are too weak.”
“Yes.”
“You may collapse.”
“Yes.”
“They may shoot.”
“Yes.”
Lena looked at him.
“And what do you need from us?”
Alejandro met her eyes.
“The truth.”
At 11:58 a.m., Rafael Moretti stood in the main hall of the estate beneath the oil portrait of his father.
Thirty-two men faced him.
Some loyal.
Some uncertain.
Some already bought.
In his right hand, he held a pink rabbit backpack.
“You all know what happened,” Rafael said. “My brother is compromised. The maid is compromised. The child is missing because Alejandro dragged outsiders into this house.”
Murmurs moved through the room.
Marco, the guard who had opened Rosa’s door, stood near the staircase with his eyes down.
Rafael lifted the backpack higher.
“This is what remains of the child’s things.”
A few men crossed themselves.
Rafael lowered his voice.
“Alejandro’s weakness has brought danger to children again.”
That line did exactly what he intended.
It invoked Kiara.
The dead child.
The grief no man dared mention.
The hall shifted.
Then the front doors opened.
Every head turned.
Alejandro Moretti stood at the entrance, pale as death and held upright by nothing but rage.
Bruno stood beside him.
Lena Carter stood on his other side, carrying Emma.
The room froze.
Emma looked at Rafael.
Then at the backpack in his hand.
Her little face crumpled with anger.
“That’s mine,” she said.
The words echoed through the hall.
Rafael did not move.
Alejandro stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
His voice was quiet.
May you like
But every man heard it.
“You should have checked the pantry.”
