Chapter 2 - Echoes of the Past
By afternoon, the blizzard had died down into a bitter, biting cold that paralyzed the city. Inside the Cross mansion, however, a different kind of storm was brewing. Emmett sat in his war room, surrounded by digital maps of Chicago, surveillance feeds, and three of his most trusted lieutenants.
“We’ve combed River North,” Marco, a battle-hardened captain, reported. “If Victor is operating there, he’s deeply entrenched. He’s using shell corporations that lead back to European banks. It’s clean, Emmett. Too clean for a guy who used to run street operations.”
“Because he’s not running street operations anymore,” Emmett said, studying a map of the shipping docks along the Chicago River. “He’s running high-end logistics. He’s moving human cargo, and he needed my financial servers to launder the proceeds through my legitimate businesses. If he succeeds, the feds won’t come after him. They’ll come after me.”
“It’s a brilliant frame-up,” Tommy added, entering the room with a tablet. “Diana didn't just give them access to the Obsidian Club; they forced her to plant a hardware keylogger in the manager's office. Victor has been downloading our transaction histories for three weeks. He has enough to pin his entire trafficking ring on the Cross family.”
Emmett’s phone buzzed on the table. It was an restricted number.
The room went dead silent. Emmett picked it up, pressing the speakerphone.
“Emmett,” a raspy, familiar voice chuckled through the line. The sound was like glass grinding against stone. “It’s been a long time, old friend.”
“Victor,” Emmett said, his tone devoid of any emotion. “You’re a hard man to kill.”
“You send amateurs to do a professional's job,” Victor Brennon hissed. “You thought you burned me out, Emmett. But fire only hardens steel. I’ve built something beautiful here, and you’re going to fund it. Your reputation, your legitimate assets, your freedom—it all belongs to me now.”
“You have something that belongs to me,” Emmett replied coldly.
A sharp gasp echoed over the phone, followed by the sound of a heavy blow and a woman’s muffled cry of pain. Emmett’s blood ran cold.
“Ah, the lovely Diana,” Victor laughed. “She’s been very uncooperative. She keeps crying about her daughter. Tell me, Emmett, did the little rat make it to your gate? Or did she freeze to death in the storm? Because if she’s dead, I have no leverage left to make Diana write the final confession letter I need.”
Emmett looked at his lieutenants, gesturing for Tommy to trace the call. Tommy was already typing furiously, his face sweating despite the cold room.
“The girl is safe,” Emmett said into the phone, keeping Victor talking. “And she is under my protection. If you touch Diana again, Victor, I won’t just kill you. I will erase everything you have ever built, piece by piece, until nothing but ash remains.”
“Bold words for a man who is about to be arrested by the FBI,” Victor mocked. “You have twenty-four hours to transfer fifty million dollars into the account I sent Diana's ledger, and you will hand over the girl. If you don't, Diana’s body will be pulled from the lake, and the FBI will receive an anonymous tip with all the digital evidence they need to lock you away for life. I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead.
Tommy looked up from his tablet, shaking his head in frustration. “He’s using a military-grade satellite bounce, Boss. I couldn’t pin the exact location. Somewhere in the industrial sector near the south ports, but that’s a five-mile radius.”
Emmett stood up, strapping his shoulder holster over his tailored suit. “We don’t need a trace. Victor is arrogant. He thinks he holds all the cards because he has Diana and the digital evidence. But he made a mistake.”
“What mistake?” Marco asked.
“He thinks I care about the FBI,” Emmett said darkly. “And he thinks I will let him trade a child. Marco, get the men ready. We’re going to turn Chicago upside down until someone bleeds the address we need.”
As Emmett walked out of the war room, he saw Luna standing at the end of the hallway, holding a small teddy bear Mrs. Ingrid had found for her. She had heard everything. Her small eyes were filled with a terrifying understanding of the adult world.
Emmett paused, looking at her. He expected her to cry, to scream, to beg.
May you like
Instead, Luna walked up to him, took his massive, scarred hand in her tiny fingers, and whispered, “Bring her back. Please.”
Emmett squeezed her hand gently. “I will. Go back with Mrs. Ingrid, Luna. The monsters won’t win this time.”
