Chapter 5 - The Fortress of Glass
"Don't look at him," I snapped, shielding Leo's face against my collarbone. "Tell Dante to let us go. We're getting into our cab and leaving."
"That town car you booked?" Luca replied, his voice rough as his eyes remained glued to the child in my arms. "The driver is already on Volkov's payroll. If you opened that door, you and that boy would have been in an abandoned warehouse in Cicero within the hour."
A sickening cold settled in my stomach. The driver had been arranged through a reputable service in Switzerland, but the reach of the Bratva was far deeper than I had imagined.
"You're lying," I choked out.
"I have served Dante Moretti for twenty years, Elena," Luca said, stepping aside to reveal an armored Mercedes-Maybach idling behind a wall of concrete barriers. "I watched him bleed out on an operating table after he took three bullets meant for you four years ago. I don't lie to you. Get in the car. For the boy's sake."
Clara was trembling beside me, watching the armed men flank the sidewalk. I had no weapons, no backup, and a toddler whose life was worth more to me than my pride.
"Fine," I whispered, swallowing the bitter taste of defeat. "Fine."
Luca opened the heavy, ballistic-glass door. I climbed in, pulling Leo onto my lap, and Clara slid in beside us, pulling the bags inside. The door slammed shut with the heavy, vacuum-sealed thud of a bank vault, instantly muting the screaming sirens and the roaring Chicago wind.
The car moved immediately, accelerating into the express lanes toward downtown.
"Where are you taking us?" I demanded, leaning toward the partition.
"The boss's private residence at the Columbian," Luca replied from the front passenger seat without turning around. "Not the family estate in Lake Forest. The penthouse. It’s the only place in the city with independent military-grade jamming and private helipad access."
"Dante is married," I said, my voice dripping with scorn. "I will not be kept as his dirty little secret in a tower."
"Mrs. Moretti doesn't have the security codes to the Columbian," Luca said flatly. "In fact, she has never set foot in the building. Nobody does, Miss Elena. Except the boss. And now, you."
I stared out the rain-streaked window as the iconic Chicago skyline rose from the mist—the towering steel needles of the Willis Tower and the dark silhouette of the John Hancock building. For three years, I had sworn I would never see these monuments again. I had built a peaceful life in a quiet village outside Geneva, teaching Leo how to pick alpine wildflowers, baking bread, pretending that the ghosts of blood and gunpowder had stayed on the other side of the Atlantic.
"Look, Mama!" Leo chirped, pointing a tiny finger at the skyscrapers through the dark glass. "Big castles!"
"Yes, my love," I whispered, pressing a kiss to his soft temple, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Very big castles."
*Castles built on the bones of men Dante killed to keep the throne,* I thought darkly.
Within thirty minutes, the Maybach descended into a private subterranean garage beneath the Columbian. The elevator was secured by a biometric retinal scanner. Luca scanned his badge and pressed his thumb to the pad, stepping back as the brushed-steel doors parted.
"Penthouse is the 44th floor," Luca said, bowing his head slightly. "The boss will be here shortly. There is food, clothes for you, and a medical kit in the master suite. Stay inside."
"And if I try to leave?" I challenged.
May you like
Luca looked at Leo one last time, an expression of profound sorrow and loyalty flashing across his hardened eyes. "If you try to leave, you kill that boy, Elena. Because the city knows you are here now. And a Moretti child without the Don's protection is just an open target."
***
