Chapter 13 - The Serpent's Strike
The failed assassination attempt proved one thing: Don Vane and Julian were growing desperate. But desperation makes dangerous men foolish.
That night, my intelligence network tracked Julian’s location to an abandoned industrial shipyard along the Chicago River. He was waiting for a extraction boat sent by the Syndicate of Seven.
Nikolai wanted to send fifty armed men to level the entire pier, but I stopped him in our command center.
"If you launch a full military assault, Don Vane will pull back into the shadows," I explained, pointing to the blueprint of the docks projected on the digital screen. "He'll hire another assassin, another quiet poisoner. We need to cut off the head of the snake once and for all."
"I am not letting you anywhere near that pier, Evelyn," Nikolai said, his tone uncompromising. "You are six months pregnant."
"I won't be on the pier," I smiled darkly. "I'll be in the sniper tower across the river."
Nikolai stared at me, dumbfounded. "You're a high-society heiress and a corporate executive."
"I’m also William Hart’s granddaughter," I reminded him, a cold pride burning in my chest. "My grandfather didn't just teach me how to read balance sheets, Nikolai. He taught me how to hold my breath between heartbeats."
Two hours later, the rain was pouring over the dark waters of the Chicago River.
I sat comfortably in the climate-controlled upper deck of a private crane tower overlooking the docks, dressed in a black tactical jacket, a silenced high-powered rifle resting perfectly on a bipod in front of me. Below, Nikolai walked onto the open pier alone, his dark trench coat whipping in the wind, a single glass of whiskey in his hand.
From the shadows of a shipping container, Julian stepped out. He looked gaunt, haunted, holding a heavy submachine gun, flanked by ten heavily armed mercenaries bearing the Syndicate crest.
"Nikolai!" Julian shouted over the sound of crashing waves. "You came alone! How poetic! Where is your brilliant wife now? Hiding in her golden palace?!"
"Evelyn doesn't need to hide from a ghost, Julian," Nikolai said smoothly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "You died the night you walked into that ballroom with Serena. You're just too stupid to lie down."
Julian’s face twisted in rage. "Don Vane promised me I’d get the Hart Foundation back once you were dead! Aim!"
The ten mercenaries raised their rifles toward Nikolai.
Through my thermal scope, I aligned the crosshairs directly with the central fuel line of the cargo vessel docked right behind Julian’s men.
"Nikolai," I whispered into my comms earbud. "Duck."
Nikolai dropped to one knee.
BANG.
My armor-piercing round tore through the night, striking the pressurized fuel tank. A massive, deafening fireball erupted across the pier, throwing Julian and his mercenaries off their feet into the freezing river.
Secondary explosions rocked the dock. Nikolai stood up casually, dusting off his coat, as his strike team swarmed the pier, pulling a screaming, burning Julian from the water.
May you like
I lowered my rifle, looking down through the scope at Julian, who was dragged onto his knees in front of my husband.
Nikolai picked up Julian’s discarded gun and tossed it into the river. "Tell Don Vane that Chicago belongs to the Morettis. And tell him my wife sends her regards."
