Chapter 4 - INSIDE THE LIONS DENThe interior of the SUV smelled faintly of expensive leather, cedar, and rain. As the vehicle glided effortlessly away from the hospital and merged into the chaotic Chicago traffic, nobody spoke.
The massive driver in the front seat—a silent mountain of a man wearing dark sunglasses despite the nighttime darkness—kept his eyes locked strictly on the rearview mirror.
Grant turned his head slightly, studying me with an unreadable expression.
“You didn't have to call,” Grant said softly, breaking the heavy silence. “My men would have intercepted him before he laid a hand on you.”
“He chased me through my workplace!” My voice cracked, a dangerous mix of fear and sudden, blinding anger bubbling over. “Men are hunting me because of you, Grant! I saved your life. I patched up your torn gut, I lied to a detective, I threw away my professional ethics, and now my entire life has been blown to pieces!”
I glared at him, waiting for him to flash a weapon, to threaten me, to dismiss me.
Instead, Grant let out a low, humorless sigh. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim, silver cigarette case, though he didn't light one.
“You're right,” Grant admitted quietly, shocking me with his candor. “You saved my life. And by doing so, you stepped into a war zone. Detective Reed isn't just a dirty cop on a payroll. He’s the primary asset of Viktor Vance.”
My breath hitched. Even as a civilian nurse working night shifts in the inner city, I had heard hushed whispers about Viktor Vance. The ruthless, untouchable warlord of the North Side syndicate—the man trying to orchestrate a bloody corporate takeover of Chicago’s underworld by eliminating Grant Mercer and everyone loyal to him.
“Vance knows that you know what I look like without my guards,” Grant continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And more importantly, he knows that if you talk, the police department’s internal corruption is exposed, cutting off his immunity. He won't stop until you're silenced, Emily.”
“Then why bring me with you?” I asked, my voice trembling as the terrifying reality of my situation settled deep into my bones. “Aren't I just a liability?”
Grant leaned forward, the dim streetlights casting sharp shadows across his chiseled face.
“Because,” he said, his gaze pinning me in place, “I don't leave loose ends. And I certainly don't abandon the people who saved my life. You're coming with me to a safehouse. For your own protection.”
“A safehouse?” I swallowed hard. “Where?”
Grant didn't answer immediately. Instead, the SUV veered off the main highway, cutting down a desolate, industrial access road near the frozen Chicago river, heading straight toward an imposing, heavily fortified limestone estate surrounded by spiked wrought-iron gates.
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As the massive gates swung open automatically, Grant looked straight into my eyes.
“Welcome to my fortress, Emily. Now, we figure out how to hunt the men who are hunting you.”
