Chapter 8 - The Reunion
The vault was dimly lit, filled with crates of bearer bonds, historical ledger books, and gold bullion. But Gideon didn't care about the wealth of the Mercer empire.
His eyes fell upon the back of the room.
There, tied to a wooden chair, was a woman. Her head was bowed, her long, dark brown hair falling over her face. She was wearing a torn, oversized flannel shirt. Her wrists were raw from the ropes, but as the door opened, she lifted her head.
Her gray eyes met his.
“Gideon?” she whispered, her voice cracked and dry.
Gideon dropped his gun. He ran to her, falling to his knees and tearing at the ropes that bound her. His hands, usually so steady, were shaking violently. “Lydia... oh God, Lydia.”
As the ropes fell away, she didn't run. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him close. She smelled of dust and fear, but beneath it, the faint, unmistakable scent of lavender soap remained. She wept into his shoulder, her body shaking with two years of accumulated terror.
“He told me you wanted me dead,” she sobbed, her fingers digging into his back. “Silas told me you found out about my investigation and ordered the crash. I didn't believe him at first... but then he showed me photos of you executing the Valettis. You looked so cold, Gideon. I was so scared for the baby...”
“I didn't know, Lydia,” Gideon whispered, burying his face in her neck, his own tears falling freely now. “I thought you died in the river. I buried an empty coffin. If I had known, I would have burned the world down to find you.”
She pulled back, her hands framing his face. Her gray eyes searched his, finding the warmth that had been buried for two years. “Our baby... Clara... Victor took her. Is she—?”
“She’s safe,” Gideon interrupted, smiling through his tears—a genuine, radiant smile no one had seen on his face in years. “She’s at Ironwood. She’s in the yellow room, Lydia. She’s waiting for us.”
Lydia let out a breathless, joyful cry, hugging him again.
Outside the vault, Pierce stepped over the unconscious, bleeding form of Silas. “Boss, the perimeter is clear. The police are going to respond to the gunfire soon. We need to move.”
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Gideon stood up, lifting Lydia into his arms. She was light, far too thin, but she held onto him with a fierce tenacity.
“Let’s go home,” Gideon said.
