Chapter 2 - The Rival's Offer"I don't make deals with monsters," I said, pulling my arms back as Julian Vance's driver held open the door of a sleek, bulletproof Mercedes Maybach idling outside the precinct.
The chill of the Chicago night air bit through my torn uniform, but the fire inside my chest burned hotter. Lucia was sitting in a hospital bed with a failing heart, counting down a two-month clock, and I was standing on a wet pavement with a syndicate boss who wanted to use me as a weapon against Adrian Valente.
Julian didn't flinch. He leaned against the door frame, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Monster? Oh, Isabella, darling. In our world, a monster is just a man who protects his blood a little louder than the rest. Adrian Valente punched you, broke your heart, and locked you in a cage while the real traitors sit at his dining table drinking vintage scotch."
He pulled a thick, heavy manila envelope from his coat pocket and tossed it onto the plush leather seat inside the car.
"Open it," Julian commanded smoothly.
I hesitated, then reached inside and pulled out a stack of documents. My eyes scanned the first page, and the breath hitched in my lungs. It wasn't just a medical file—it was a complete, fully funded surgical schedule for Lucia at the Mayo Clinic, complete with a deposit receipt bearing a wire transfer for five hundred thousand dollars. The second document was a certified deed to a secure, modern apartment on the North Side.
"Why?" I choked out, looking up at him through a blur of sudden, hot tears. "What do you want from me?"
"Simple," Julian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "Adrian thinks he owns Chicago because he rules it with blind fury. I want to show him that his crown is built on glass. You are going to walk back into the Valente estate—not as an accused criminal, but as my personal insider. You are going to help me expose the rot inside his house. In exchange, your sister gets her life back. Do we have a deal?"
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I looked at the envelope in my hands, then back toward the grim facade of the Cook County jailhouse. I had two choices: stay a helpless victim of a corrupt system, or dance with the devil to save my sister.
"I don't want your apartment, Julian," I said, lifting my chin with a sudden, fierce resolve. "Just wire the money to the clinic. And give me a burner phone. I'm going to war."
