Chapter 6
The cheap gravel of the motel parking lot crunched under my worn sneakers as I stumbled backward.
“His brother?” I repeated, the words tasting foreign on my tongue. “Dominic’s own brother tried to kill him?”
“Julian Salvatore,” Marco confirmed, a dark, venomous edge creeping into his voice. “He’s the underboss. He manages the legitimate front businesses—the real estate, the political donations. Dominic thought Julian was weak, but he trusted him. Blood is blood.”
“But why would the FBI arrest Dominic if Julian planted the bomb?” I asked, trying to untangle the chaotic web of betrayal.
“Because Julian is a coward who realized he failed,” Marco sneered. “When Dominic survived the blast, Julian panicked. He knew it was only a matter of time before Dominic found out the truth and executed him. So, Julian did what rats do. He went to the FBI.”
Marco pointed to the newspaper clipping in my hand.
“Julian turned state's evidence,” Marco explained bitterly. “He handed the feds decades of ledgers, offshore account numbers, and recorded conversations. In exchange for immunity and witness protection, Julian gave them everything they needed to dismantle the Salvatore syndicate and put Dominic away for life.”
I stared at the headline, a strange, heavy hollow opening in my chest.
Dominic Salvatore, the terrifying, unyielding force of nature who had saved my daughter, was currently sitting in a federal cell, betrayed by his own blood.
“I still don't understand why you’re here, Marco,” I said slowly, looking up at the towering enforcer. “If the syndicate is dismantled, and Dominic is in prison, why did you track me down to Iowa?”
Marco let out a long, exhausted sigh. He looked around the desolate motel lot, ensuring we were completely alone, before stepping closer.
“Because Julian’s immunity deal only protects him from the federal government,” Marco said, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “It doesn't protect him from the remnants of our syndicate. Or the rival families who now see a massive power vacuum in Chicago.”
Marco looked directly into my eyes, and for the first time, I saw genuine, unadulterated fear in the hardened enforcer.
“Julian knows Dominic will never forgive the betrayal,” Marco continued rapidly. “He knows Dominic has loyalists—like me—who will hunt him down to the ends of the earth. Julian needs leverage to ensure Dominic orders us to stand down.”
My blood ran cold. The familiar, suffocating terror I had felt in the warehouse rushed back, paralyzing my lungs.
“Leverage,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Marco nodded grimly. “Julian knows about you, Emma. He knows you pulled Dominic from the fire. He knows Dominic transferred the deed of the apartment building to your name. Julian believes you are Dominic’s weakness.”
I glanced back at Maya, who was happily filling her plastic bucket with gravel, completely oblivious to the lethal danger circling her once again.
“He’s coming for us,” I realized, the horrific truth settling over me like a shroud.
“Julian’s mercenaries are already scouring the city for you,” Marco confirmed. “I had to find you first. Dominic gave me one final order before the feds put him in cuffs.”
Marco reached into his tailored jacket and pulled out a small, heavy black object. He held it out to me.
It was a burner phone, thick and archaic-looking, devoid of any modern touchscreen features.
“What is this?” I asked, taking the phone hesitantly.
“It’s a direct, encrypted line to a federal judge,” Marco explained, shocking me completely. “Judge Arthur Vance. He’s the only man in Chicago who isn't on a syndicate payroll. He’s been trying to take down the Salvatores for twenty years.”
“Why would Dominic give me a phone to call the man trying to destroy him?” I asked, entirely bewildered.
“Because Judge Vance is the one who approved Julian’s immunity deal,” Marco said, a dark, brilliant strategy unfolding in his words. “Dominic knows Julian is unstable. He knows Julian will try to use you as leverage. Dominic wants you to call Judge Vance and offer him a deal.”
“What deal could I possibly offer a federal judge?” I scoffed, feeling entirely inadequate for the massive, dangerous game I was being pulled into.
Marco smiled, a cold, predatory expression that reminded me intensely of his boss.
“You offer him the one thing Julian couldn't provide,” Marco stated softly. “Julian gave the feds the financial ledgers. But he couldn't give them the physical evidence tying the rival syndicates to the corrupt politicians. He couldn't give them the Black Book.”
“The Black Book?”
“A physical, handwritten ledger Dominic’s grandfather started sixty years ago,” Marco explained reverently. “It details every bribe, every murder, and every illicit transaction that built the Chicago underground. If the feds get the Black Book, they don't just dismantle the Salvatores. They dismantle the entire city.”
“And where is this book?” I asked, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm.
Marco looked at me, a profound, agonizing burden resting in his eyes.
“It’s in the apartment building Dominic gave you,” Marco revealed, the truth hitting me with the force of a physical blow. “He didn't just give you that building to secure your financial future, Emma. He gave it to you because it’s the only property not registered under a Salvatore shell corporation. It’s the only place the feds—and Julian—didn't know to look.”
I stared at the burner phone in my hand, the sheer magnitude of the situation overwhelming me.
Dominic hadn't just protected me; he had entrusted me with the ultimate weapon to destroy his enemies, and in doing so, he had placed a massive, inescapable target on my back.
“If I give the book to the judge,” I reasoned, trying to find a way out, “Julian loses his leverage. The feds take down the rivals. But Dominic still goes to prison.”
“Dominic is willing to spend the rest of his life in a federal cell if it means you and Maya are safe from Julian,” Marco stated simply, the absolute devotion of the boss’s sacrifice ringing clear in the open air.
I looked at Maya, laughing as she poured gravel over her own shoes.
I had run away to protect her. I had thought isolation was the answer.
But hiding wouldn't stop men like Julian. Hiding only made us prey.
If I wanted my daughter to truly be safe, I couldn't just run from the darkness. I had to burn it to the ground.
I looked at Marco, the fear in my chest solidifying into a fierce, unyielding resolve.
“We have to go back to Chicago,” I said firmly, clutching the burner phone.
Marco nodded, relief flashing across his hardened features.
“We leave now,” Marco agreed. “But Emma, you need to understand. The moment we step foot back in the city, Julian’s men will be hunting us. We only have one shot to get the book and make the call.”
I didn't flinch. I had pulled a man from a burning car. I had detonated a flashbang to save my child.
“I’m not afraid of Julian Salvatore,” I lied smoothly, channeling the terrifying confidence I had seen in Dominic.
We loaded Maya into the armored SUV. The drive back to Chicago was suffocatingly tense. The sprawling cornfields of Iowa slowly gave way to the towering concrete and steel of the city that held my nightmare.
We didn't go to my apartment immediately. Marco parked the SUV in a subterranean parking garage three blocks away, hidden among hundreds of civilian vehicles.
“The book is hidden in the boiler room in the basement of your building,” Marco explained, handing me a small, heavy flashlight. “Behind the main pressure valve, there is a loose brick. Pull it out. The book is inside a waterproof lockbox.”
“You’re not coming with me?” I panicked slightly, gripping the flashlight.
“If I walk in there, Julian’s spotters will recognize me instantly,” Marco said grimly, checking his weapon. “They don't know you own the building yet. To them, you’re just a tenant returning home. I will hold the perimeter and cover your exit. If anything goes wrong, press the red button on the burner phone. It will immediately connect you to Judge Vance.”
I nodded, my heart thudding in my ears.
I left Maya sleeping peacefully in her car seat, the doors locked and Marco standing guard.
I walked out of the garage and onto the bustling Chicago streets. It was early evening, the city alive with commuters and neon lights. I kept my head down, pulling my hood up to obscure my face, moving quickly toward my apartment building.
I reached the front doors without incident. I slipped inside, bypassing the elevators, and headed straight for the stairwell leading down to the basement.
The basement was dark, smelling of damp earth and old metal. The hum of the massive boiler vibrated through the concrete floor.
I turned on the flashlight, sweeping the beam across the shadowed walls until I found the main pressure valve Marco had described.
I stepped closer, examining the brickwork behind the thick pipes.
I found the loose brick.
My fingers trembled as I wedged them into the crumbling mortar, pulling the heavy brick free.
I reached into the dark cavity and felt the cold, hard surface of a metal lockbox.
I pulled it out, a triumphant, terrified breath escaping my lips. I had it. The key to ending the nightmare.
“I knew he was arrogant, but I didn't think he was stupid enough to hide it here.”
The voice echoed from the darkness behind me, smooth and chillingly familiar.
May you like
I spun around, dropping the flashlight. It rolled across the concrete, the beam illuminating a pair of expensive, polished leather shoes.
Stepping out of the shadows, holding a suppressed pistol aimed directly at my chest, was Julian Salvatore.
