Chapter 3
Chapter 3
“Cross selected ground he knows,” Adrian observed, leaning back as his expression hardened into stone. “The old salt terminals offer four blind exits and direct river access.”
The convoy cut its sirens and kill-switches two blocks early, gliding silently into the shadows of towering rusty silos. Cold rain drummed against the reinforced steel roof overhead.
Four armed operatives fanned out the moment the doors opened, moving in tight, silent tactical formations. Adrian stepped out first, extending his hand to guide Brielle onto the wet gravel.
“Stay behind my left shoulder,” he instructed softly. “If gunfire erupts, drop behind the engine block immediately.” Brielle nodded, her fingers curling around the concealed knife Marcus had provided.
They moved past stacks of rotting wooden pallets and rusted shipping containers toward an open doorway. A single yellow bulb flickered within the damp cavernous interior of the warehouse.
Inside, rain dripped rhythmically through broken skylights, splashing onto cracked concrete floors. In the center sat an overturned wooden crate with an old battery lantern resting on top.
A man stepped out from the deep gloom behind an iron pillar, his hands raised openly. Daniel Cross looked gaunt and weathered, but his pale eyes were sharp and completely steady.
“You brought her along, Moretti,” Cross said, his voice rasping from years of cheap tobacco smoke. “I was afraid you would leave her locked away in your golden cage.”
Adrian took two paces forward, placing himself slightly ahead of Brielle with weapon lowered but ready. “Talk quickly, Daniel, before my security chief tests the caliber of his rifle.”
Cross looked past Adrian, fixing his gaze on Brielle’s face with a strange, sorrowful recognition. “You have your mother’s stubborn chin, Brielle. You look exactly like Emily does now.”
Hearing her sister’s name spoken in the present tense made Brielle take a sharp, instinctive step forward. “Where is she, Daniel? What did you do to her that night?”
“I saved her life from the very men who burned your building,” Cross stated, exhaling slowly into the cold air. “The Circle wanted every witness silenced after your father’s gambling ledgers vanished.”
“My father died years before that fire,” Brielle countered, her voice shaking with righteous fury. “He had nothing to do with syndicate syndicates, loans, or bookies on the South Side.”
“Your father was Julian Vance, Moretti’s chief accountant before Adrian took the throne,” Cross revealed calmly. “He changed his name to Dawson when he attempted to disappear from Chicago.”
Brielle felt the concrete sway beneath her boots as another fundamental pillar of her reality crumbled. She turned toward Adrian, who maintained an impassive, completely focused gaze upon the informant.
“My father was a quiet mechanic who died in a shop accident,” Brielle whispered in denial. “He smelled of motor oil and sawdust, never money or blood or expensive cigars.”
“Julian was a master of numbers and false paper trails,” Adrian confirmed quietly without taking his eyes off Cross. “He vanished with five million dollars belonging to the Serpent Circle.”
“And the Circle hunted your apartment eleven years ago to retrieve those ledgers,” Cross explained further. “I arrived five minutes ahead of the cleanup crew to pull Emily out safely.”
“Then why didn't you take me too?” Brielle demanded, tears stinging her eyes against the warehouse chill. “Why leave me behind to starve in foster homes thinking she was dead?”
“Because you were already hiding in the ventilation crawlspace when the firebombs shattered the lower floor,” Cross said. “I barely had time to throw Emily into my back seat.”
“Where is she now, Daniel?” Adrian interrupted, cutting through the emotional fog with cold precision. “Give us an exact location before my patience runs out in this wet room.”
“She is safe with a former sisterhood convent near Lake Geneva,” Cross replied, lowering his hands slightly. “Living under the name Clara Vance, unaware of what her bloodline represents.”
“Then why surface tonight?” Brielle asked, stepping shoulder to shoulder with Adrian. “Why target Sophia Moretti today if your conscience was so clean eleven long years ago?”
Cross shook his head vigorously, his eyes widening with genuine alarm. “I had nothing to do with today’s ambush on Eleanor and Sophia! That was ordered by Dominic Vance.”
The warehouse fell into an icy silence, the heavy raindrops on the roof sounding like artillery. Adrian’s jaw tightened visibly, a muscle ticking beneath his trimmed dark beard.
“Dominic died in the Cook County penitentiary nine months ago,” Adrian stated, his voice dropping below a whisper. “I personally signed off on the mortuary transfer records.”
“Dominic purchased his death certificate with the remainder of your father’s stolen treasury,” Cross spat out. “He is alive, rebuilding the Circle, and hunting Emily down right now.”
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Brielle felt cold dread wash through her veins, freezing the blood in her aching limbs. “Why would Dominic hunt my sister if she knows nothing about the past?”
—END OF Chapter 3,
