Chapter 6 - The Hitman's Mistake
By noon the next day, the storm had broken, leaving Chicago buried under a pristine, blinding layer of white snow. But inside the Vale Tower, the atmosphere was a pressure cooker of impending violence.
Mayor Sterling’s network was vast, and with Volkov’s men scouring the city, the penthouse was no longer a viable stronghold for a child. I needed absolute mobility to wage the war that was coming, and I couldn't do that with Norah in the crossfire.
"We're moving them to the Estate," I told Elias as we stood in the garage, inspecting the heavily armored, matte-black Cadillac SUVs. The Vale Estate was a sixty-acre compound in the sprawling woods of Lake Forest, surrounded by ten-foot electrified walls, motion sensors, and heavily armed guards. It was a fortress.
"Are you sure, Boss?" Elias asked, checking the magazine of his customized M4 carbine. "A convoy is a visible target in daylight."
"Volkov knows we have the girl, but he doesn't know who 'we' are yet. We used unmarked vehicles last night. We move fast, we move heavy, and we get her behind those walls before they figure out I’m the one holding the cards."
I walked back upstairs to gather Norah. She was sitting quietly in the living room, wearing a new, warm sweater one of the maids had purchased, clutching Bunny. She looked up at me, her brown eyes still wide with lingering trauma, but there was a flicker of trust there now.
"We're going on a trip, Norah," I said gently, offering my hand. "To a very big house with lots of trees. You'll be safe there."
She took my hand without hesitation. Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine, sending a sharp, agonizing phantom memory of Juniper through my chest. I pushed it down. Focus on the mission. Protect the child.
We descended to the garage. I placed Norah in the middle seat of the lead SUV, buckling her in myself. I sat beside her, while Elias took the front passenger seat. Two decoy SUVs flanked us as we pulled out of the underground garage and merged into the heavily salted streets of downtown Chicago.
The drive was tense, the silence in the cabin thick. Norah looked out the window, mesmerized by the towering snowbanks. We made it onto the Kennedy Expressway without incident, the heavy tires of the armored vehicle gripping the slick asphalt.
We were twenty minutes from the Estate when the world exploded.
It didn't sound like a movie. There was no dramatic echo. Just a deafening, concussive CRACK that made my ears ring, followed instantly by the horrifying sound of shattering glass.
A heavy caliber sniper round, likely a .50 BMG, struck the passenger side window of our SUV. The armored glass did exactly what it was designed to do—it caught the bullet. But the kinetic force was so massive that the interior layer of the glass spider-webbed violently, bowing inward with a sickening crunch.
Norah screamed, a raw, piercing sound of pure terror, clapping her hands over her ears.
"Down!" I roared, throwing my entire body over hers, pressing her tiny frame into the leather seats. My massive frame shielded her completely as I drew my sidearm, my eyes scanning the tree line over the concrete barrier of the highway.
"Sniper! Three o'clock!" Elias barked into the radio, his weapon already drawn. "Overpass!"
The driver slammed on the brakes, throwing us forward as the SUV fishtailed on the ice, positioning the engine block between us and the shooter. The two escort vehicles instantly swerved, forming a steel barricade around our car. Doors flew open. Six of my best shooters poured out onto the highway, laying down a devastating blanket of suppressive fire toward the snowy overpass.
The roaring chatter of automatic weapons tore through the quiet winter afternoon. Civilians in cars hundreds of yards behind us slammed on their brakes, abandoning their vehicles and running in panic.
Beneath me, Norah was sobbing violently, her small body trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
"I've got you," I whispered fiercely into her hair, my own heart hammering against my ribs. "I've got you, Norah. I will not let them touch you."
"Target neutralized!" a voice cracked over Elias’s radio. "One of the twins took him out with a DMR. Shooter is down. Repeat, overpass is clear."
"Get us moving!" I commanded, my voice laced with a lethal fury I hadn't felt in three years. "Do not stop until those gates close behind us!"
The driver threw the SUV into gear, the tires smoking against the icy road as we tore away from the kill zone, leaving our escort team to clean up the mess and scrub the scene before the police arrived.
Thirty minutes later, the heavy iron gates of the Vale Estate slammed shut behind us. I carried a weeping Norah inside, handing her over to my personal housekeeper, Maria, a kind, grandmotherly woman who immediately wrapped the child in a warm blanket and rushed her to the kitchen for hot chocolate.
I stood in the grand foyer of the estate, my chest heaving, the adrenaline turning into a cold, focused wrath.
They had shot at my car. With a child inside.
They had tried to bring the nightmare of Juniper’s death back to life.
Elias walked into the foyer, brushing snow off his tactical vest. He took one look at my face and stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to unleash hell on earth.
"The shooter was Russian," Elias reported grimly. "Volkov’s men are getting desperate. They tracked the plates from the hospital."
I walked over to the antique mahogany table in the hall and picked up the heavy, secure landline phone. I dialed the number for Marcus, who was still stationed at the Tower.
"Boss," Marcus answered on the first ring.
"Take off the leash," I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings of the estate.
"Excuse me, sir?"
"You heard me," I snarled, the civilized veneer of the billionaire businessman violently tearing away, revealing the apex predator underneath. "Mayor Sterling and Viktor Volkov think they are hunting a witness. I want you to show them who the real monster in this city is."
"What are the targets?" Marcus asked, his tone shifting into deadly professionalism.
"All of them," I commanded. "Every stash house the Russians own on the South Side. Every nightclub they use to launder money. Every port warehouse Sterling's shell companies operate. I want them hit simultaneously. Leave no one standing. Burn their money, sink their shipments, and leave the bodies for the police to find."
"It will be a bloodbath, Gideon. It’s an act of open war."
May you like
"I know," I said, staring out the window at the falling snow. "By midnight, I want the Mayor of Chicago to know that he woke up the devil. Burn the city down, Marcus."
I hung up the phone. The war for Chicago had begun.
