Chapter 6 - The Hostage Protocol
The drive to Chicago took fourteen agonizing hours.
I sat in the back of a heavily armored SUV, wedged between two silent, massive men in dark suits. My wrists weren't tied—Thomas Rossi had instructed them not to stress the baby—but the doors were child-locked and the tinted windows were bulletproof.
I rested my hand on my stomach, feeling Charlotte kicking frantically. She felt my terror.
In the SUV ahead of us, Walter was locked in the trunk. Adrian was tied up in the backseat. I had no idea if Adrian was even awake.
When the convoy finally slowed, it was nearing midnight.
We pulled into an underground parking garage beneath a massive steel-and-glass skyscraper in downtown Chicago. The doors unlocked, and a guard grabbed my arm, hauling me out into the harsh fluorescent light.
I watched as Carlo dragged Adrian out of the lead SUV. Adrian's hands were zip-tied behind his back, dried blood caking the side of his head, but his dark eyes were open and burning with a lethal, icy rage.
They pulled Walter from the trunk. The old man looked exhausted, his faded brown cardigan stained with oil and dirt. He stumbled, but Adrian immediately stepped into his path to brace him, taking a blow from Carlo's rifle butt to do it.
Even after learning Walter had caused his parents' death, Adrian still protected him.
Thomas Rossi stepped out of a sleek black sedan, looking completely unbothered by the drive.
"Take them to the penthouse," Thomas ordered. "Put the old man and the boy in the reinforced study. Bring the girl to the drawing room."
"Don't touch her!" Adrian yelled, lunging toward Thomas.
Two guards tackled Adrian to the concrete, driving their knees into his spine.
"I'm fine, Adrian!" I cried out, terrified they would kill him. "Don't fight them!"
Adrian went still, his eyes locking onto mine, silently promising that this wasn't over.
They dragged me into a private elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of Walter and Adrian.
The penthouse was a monument to cold, sterile wealth. White marble floors, black leather furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering Chicago skyline. It looked like a museum, not a home.
Thomas stood by the massive windows, pouring a glass of scotch from a crystal decanter.
"Sit down, Rachel," Thomas said, gesturing to a pristine white sofa.
I stayed standing. "Where is my husband?"
Thomas took a sip of his drink. "David is currently off the grid. But he monitors his old accounts. Tomorrow morning, I will deposit a very specific sum of money into an account he watches. A sum that matches the date of his mother's death. It’s a code. He will know I have you."
"He won't come," I lied, my voice shaking. "He left me because he doesn't care."
Thomas smiled. "A man doesn't leave his pregnant wife in a mafia stronghold unless he is absolutely certain it's the safest place for her. He thought the Santoros would protect you. He thought I would never breach Walter's house."
He set his glass down. "He was wrong."
"Why do you want him so badly?" I demanded. "You didn't raise him. You don't know him. He's just blood."
"Blood is everything," Thomas said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "My empire requires an heir. David is my only son."
"You want a son to inherit your money?" I asked, disgusted.
"I want a son to inherit the Commission," Thomas corrected. "The Chicago syndicate is fracturing. If I don't present a biological heir at the gathering next week, my captains will challenge my leadership. They will kill me."
The reversal hit me. Thomas wasn't doing this out of twisted fatherly love. He was doing it out of self-preservation. He needed David to survive a mafia coup.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors to the drawing room swung open.
Evelyn walked in.
She was no longer wearing the red evening gown, having changed into a sharp black designer suit. She looked exhausted but fiercely arrogant.
"The trust documents are secured, Thomas," Evelyn said, ignoring me completely. "The Santoro casinos are officially under my name. As agreed, I transfer thirty percent of the revenue to you, and I take over the New York territory."
Thomas looked at her, entirely unimpressed. "You are a very greedy woman, Evelyn."
"I am a businesswoman," Evelyn corrected sharply. "Adrian was too weak to expand. I did what was necessary."
She finally looked at me. "And I see the bait arrived safely."
I glared at her. "You ruined my life. You paid David to run."
"I paid David to leave because I needed him out of the picture before the wedding," Evelyn sneered. "I couldn't have Adrian finding out his long-lost brother was living in his own city. It would have complicated the inheritance."
She turned back to Thomas. "Now, what do we do with Adrian and the old man?"
"We wait until David arrives," Thomas said. "Once David is secured, we dispose of them."
Evelyn smiled. "I want Adrian to watch."
Before Thomas could reply, his cell phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, checking the screen.
His icy demeanor cracked. His eyes widened slightly.
"What is it?" Evelyn asked, sensing the shift.
Thomas looked up from the phone, staring directly at me.
"David just walked into the lobby of this building," Thomas said, his voice laced with shock. "He didn't wait for the code. He was already tracking us."
My heart leaped into my throat. David was here.
"Have security bring him up," Evelyn said eagerly. "Disarm him."
Thomas didn't move. He kept staring at the phone screen, tapping into the building's security feed.
"He's not alone," Thomas whispered.
He turned the phone around so we could see the video feed.
Standing in the marble lobby of the Rossi skyscraper was my husband, David. He looked older, hardened, wearing a long black coat.
But he wasn't surrendering.
Flanking David were fifty heavily armed men wearing tactical gear, carrying assault rifles. And leading them was a man I recognized from the photographs in Walter's hallway.
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It was the Don of the Romano family. The family Walter had supposedly gone to war with thirty-seven years ago.
"David didn't run away to hide," I realized aloud, the truth finally clicking into place. "He ran away to build an army."
