Chapter 4 - THE BARRICADE
The convoy of six black SUVs tore through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago, blowing through red lights without slowing down.
Luca sat in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, his assault rifle resting across his knees. Marco was driving, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Boss, we have a problem,” Daniel’s voice crackled over the secure radio frequency. “Scouts are reporting in from 4th Street.”
“Go,” Luca commanded.
“The Romanos aren't waiting for sunrise,” Daniel said grimly. “They moved the timeline up. The bulldozers are already turning their engines on. And they’ve got thirty heavily armed men setting up a perimeter around the block.”
Luca’s jaw clenched. The Romanos knew he had discovered the betrayal. Vanessa must have sent a text before he confiscated her phone.
“Are the residents out?” Luca asked.
“No, sir. The Romanos chained the front doors shut from the outside. They’re trapping them in the building.”
A cold, murderous fury washed over Luca. They weren't just going to demolish the building; they were going to bury the witnesses to the forged sale under a mountain of brick and mortar.
“ETA?” Luca asked Marco.
“Three minutes,” Marco replied, pushing the SUV past eighty.
In her small room at the estate, I was pacing the floor.
I couldn't sleep. The mansion was eerily quiet after the abrupt dismissal of the guests. I had heard Vanessa screaming as they locked her in the library, and the terrifying sound of dozens of armed men marching out the front doors.
My sister, Lily, was asleep in the small cot next to my bed, oblivious to the mafia war brewing.
But I couldn't stop thinking about Margaret Sullivan.
I carefully unlocked my door and crept down the hallway to the east guest suite, where Daniel had put her.
I knocked softly.
“Come in,” a weak voice answered.
I opened the door. Margaret was sitting in an armchair, wrapped in a thick blanket, holding a cup of tea with trembling hands.
“Sophie,” she smiled warmly, recognizing me from the garden. “You shouldn't be up, dear. Your leg.”
“I’m fine,” I said, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m safe,” Margaret sighed, looking around the luxurious room. “Mr. Moretti is a good man. Just like his mother.”
She looked down at her tea, a shadow crossing her lined face.
“But the others... Thomas, and Mrs. Higgins, and the rest. They’re still at the building. I tried to call them, but the phone lines are dead.”
My heart stopped.
“The phone lines are dead?” I repeated.
“Yes. And they’re all trapped inside. The Romanos locked the fire escapes this afternoon. They said it was for 'security renovations'.”
I felt sick. The Romanos were ensuring no one could leave.
I ran to the nightstand and picked up the guest suite phone, dialing the security office downstairs.
“Moretti Security,” a gruff voice answered.
“This is Sophie, from housekeeping,” I said quickly. “I need to speak to Mr. Moretti. Right now.”
“The boss is out on a run, sweetheart. Call back later.”
“You don't understand!” I yelled, panic rising in my throat. “The people in the building are trapped! The fire escapes are locked!”
The guard paused. “I’ll patch you through to his car.”
A moment later, static crackled, and Luca’s voice filled the line.
“Hannah?” he asked, using the name he had mistakenly called me earlier, the stress evident in his rough tone.
“It’s Sophie, Mr. Moretti,” I corrected quickly. “I’m with Margaret. She said the Romanos locked the fire escapes and cut the phone lines. The residents can’t get out.”
“I know, Sophie. We’re two blocks away,” Luca said over the roar of the SUV’s engine.
“Sir, there’s something else,” I pleaded. “My father was a structural engineer. I used to help him clean that exact building when I was a teenager. There is a secondary basement exit that isn't on the city blueprints. It leads directly into the old subway maintenance tunnels.”
The line went silent for two seconds.
“Where is the entrance, Sophie?” Luca demanded.
“It’s behind the old boiler in the sub-basement. You have to move the coal grate to see the heavy steel door. But it’s rusted shut from the inside. They can’t open it on their own.”
“We’ll blow it open,” Luca said. “Stay at the house, Sophie.”
He hung up.
Luca’s convoy turned onto 4th Street.
The scene was absolute chaos. Two massive yellow bulldozers were revving their engines, exhaust pouring into the rainy night sky. The street was barricaded by Romano black SUVs.
Thirty men with assault rifles were stationed behind the barricades, guarding the chained front doors of the Moretti Family Residence.
Inside the building, panicked faces were pressed against the first-floor windows, banging on the glass, begging for help.
“They’re going to tear it down with them inside,” Marco breathed, horrified.
“No, they’re not,” Luca said coldly.
He keyed his radio.
“Daniel. Take team two and three. Hit the barricade head-on. Give them everything you’ve got. Draw their fire away from the alley.”
“And you, Boss?” Daniel asked.
“Marco and I are going into the subway tunnels,” Luca said, grabbing a block of C4 explosive from the tactical bag in the backseat. “We’re getting them out through the basement.”
“Sir, if the Romanos see you go down there, they’ll trap you in the tunnels,” Daniel warned.
“Then make sure they don't see me,” Luca replied.
Luca and Marco slipped out of the SUV into the dark alley, running toward the rusted grating of the subway maintenance entrance a block away.
Behind them, all hell broke loose.
Daniel’s SUVs accelerated, smashing violently into the Romano barricade. Automatic gunfire erupted, shattering the rainy silence of the city. Muzzle flashes lit up the street like a strobe light as the Moretti men laid down suppressing fire, forcing the Romano guards to take cover behind their vehicles.
Luca and Marco ripped the heavy iron grate off the street and climbed down the rusted ladder into the pitch-black subway tunnels.
The air smelled of rat urine and damp earth. They ran through the darkness, using only small tactical flashlights, navigating the labyrinth of forgotten utility corridors.
“It should be right here,” Luca muttered, stopping in front of a brick wall.
He searched the wall with his flashlight until the beam caught a heavy, rusted steel door partially hidden behind a pile of old timber.
Marco stepped forward and planted the C4 on the hinges.
“Fire in the hole,” Marco warned, stepping back.
The explosion was muffled by the thick concrete, but the steel door blew inward, groaning off its rusted frame.
Luca and Marco stepped through the smoke into the sub-basement of the residence.
It was pitch black. The Romanos had cut the power.
“Hello?!” Luca yelled, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.
Nothing.
They ran up the concrete stairs to the lobby.
The twenty-two elderly residents were huddled in the center of the room, crying in terror as the sound of the gunfight raged outside on the street.
When they saw Luca emerge from the dark, a collective gasp of relief washed over them.
“Mr. Moretti!” an old man with an oxygen tank cried, stumbling forward.
“Everyone, stay calm,” Luca ordered, his voice projecting absolute authority. “We’re going down to the basement. You’re going to walk through the tunnels to the next block where my cars are waiting.”
He grabbed the old man’s oxygen tank, helping him toward the stairs.
Marco ushered the panicked residents down into the dark, guiding them with his flashlight.
They were halfway down the stairs when the entire building shook violently.
Dust and plaster rained down from the ceiling.
Outside, one of the Romano bulldozers had bypassed the gunfight and slammed its massive metal bucket directly into the load-bearing pillar of the front facade.
The building groaned, a sickening sound of structural failure echoing through the walls.
“Move!” Luca roared, pushing the residents down the stairs faster.
Another massive crash shook the foundation. The ceiling in the lobby collapsed, burying the front doors in tons of brick and mortar.
They reached the sub-basement. Marco was pushing the last of the elderly residents through the blown-out steel door into the safety of the subway tunnels.
Luca stayed behind, holding the heavy steel door open, counting heads as they passed.
“Twenty-one, twenty-two,” Luca counted.
He looked around the dusty, crumbling basement.
“Where is Mrs. Higgins?” Luca shouted over the roar of the collapsing building above them.
“She wouldn't leave her room!” one of the women cried from the tunnel. “She was looking for her husband’s photograph!”
Luca cursed violently.
He threw his assault rifle to Marco.
“Get them to the cars, Marco!” Luca yelled.
“Boss, the building is coming down!” Marco screamed back.
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“I’m not leaving her!”
Luca turned and sprinted back up the concrete stairs, plunging into the collapsing building just as a massive section of the first floor gave way, burying the stairwell behind him in a cloud of blinding dust.
