Chapter 5 - The Ambush on I-90
The armored Mercedes SUV tore through the midnight torrential rain, its dark windows repelling the flashing streetlights of Interstate 90. Noah was at the wheel, his face pale, a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his left forearm where a stray round had grazed him during the estate breach.
Dorian sat beside me in the back seat, wearing a fresh dark coat over his bandaged shoulder. In his lap rested an encrypted tactical tablet, displaying live satellite tracking of Chicago's industrial district near the docks.
"Caleb's signal went live ten minutes ago near Pier 42," Noah called out over the sound of the engine. "Valenti's men are gathering at the old sugar refinery. They think you're dead at the house, boss. Caleb delivered the news."
"Let them think it," Dorian said coldly, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Arrogance makes men sloppy. Victor will have his full guard detail present to celebrate the fall of the Cross empire. He won't expect a ghost to walk through the front door."
I looked down at my hands, which were tightly laced in my lap. "And what happens to me while you walk into a death trap?"
Dorian turned to me. His expression softened, the cold ruthlessness vanishing for a fleeting moment as he reached across the console and took my hand in his. His grip was warm, strong, and reassuring.
"Noah is taking you to the private airfield in Gary," Dorian said gently. "There is a jet waiting on the tarmac. It will take you to a private estate in Switzerland. You will be safe there, under an assumed name, with top-tier medical care."
My heart dropped into my stomach. "You're sending me away again?"
"I am securing my family," he corrected, his voice fierce with emotion. "If I fail tonight, Victor's empire will hunt anyone tied to my name. You leave the country. You raise our child. You live a long, beautiful life."
"No," I said firmly, yanking my hand back. "No! I spent six months letting you make decisions for me! I spent six months being pushed around like a pawn in your mob war! If I leave on that plane, Dorian, and you die tonight, I will spend the rest of my life hating you for making me a widow twice over!"
Dorian stared at me, astonished by the sudden, fierce fire in my voice.
Before he could respond, a sudden, brutal impact slammed into the rear side of our SUV.
Metal shrieked against metal as a massive grey pickup truck rammed us from the right lane, trying to force our heavy vehicle off the elevated highway into the dark abyss of Lake Michigan below.
"Hold on!" Noah roared, fighting the steering wheel as the tires screamed against the wet asphalt.
Another black sedan pulled up on our left, its windows rolling down. The dark muzzles of submachine guns pointed directly at our back doors.
"They followed us!" Noah yelled. "It was a setup!"
Dorian didn't hesitate. He pulled an automatic weapon from beneath his seat, lowered his window three inches, and fired three precise, controlled shots into the left sedan's driver-side tire. The sedan blew out violently, spinning out of control and crashing into the concrete barrier in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.
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But the heavy pickup truck rammed us again, harder this time. The glass in my window cracked into a web of white lines.
"Alina, get down!" Dorian yelled, throwing his entire body over mine, shielding my body with his own as bullets shattered the rear glass, raining silver shards all over us.
