I closed the office door to a narrow crack and turned back to the hallway.

The bell above the shop’s front entrance chimed.

Dominic stood in the center aisle, his shoulders broad and rigid against the backdrop of the bookshelves.

Two men in dark overcoats stepped inside, letting the cold morning air rush past them into the warmth of the shop.

“Mr. Valenti,” the taller man said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Your mother sent us to escort you back to the estate.”

“I don’t remember asking for an escort, Russo,” Dominic said, his voice dangerously low.

“She was concerned for your safety,” Russo replied, his eyes scanning the shelves. “And the safety of the child.”

Before Dominic could answer, a sharp rattle echoed from the back of the store.

It came from the delivery door leading to the alleyway.

I crept toward the rear exit, my hand shaking as I reached for the brass deadbolt.

A shadow blocked the frosted glass of the door, moving frantically.

I unlocked it and pulled it open.

A woman stumbled inside, smelling of damp wool and exhaust fumes.