Chapter 12 - The Ghost from the PastThe illusion of peace shattered on a crisp Thursday afternoon in late January.
I was walking home from the university library when a black sedan with Swiss license plates pulled up abruptly to the curb. The rear door clicked open, and a man stepped out into the biting wind. He wasn't wearing tactical gear or a mafia suit; he wore an expensive gray trench coat and gold-rimmed glasses that glinted coldly in the winter sun.
"Miss Reed," a smooth, cultured voice greeted me. "It’s been a while."
My blood ran cold. The voice belonged to Viktor Vance—Marcus Vance’s older brother and the hidden financial architect behind Apex Gen-Tech’s European subsidiaries.
"I have nothing to say to you," I said, backing away toward the crosswalk.
Viktor didn't chase me. He simply adjusted his glasses, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "You think Dominic protected you by burning down his mansion and hiding you in the Alps? Men like Dominic Vale leave a trail of blood that never washes off. He thinks he won because the Chicago branch collapsed. But Apex is a hydra, Miss Reed. Cut off one head, and two more grow back."
"Stay away from us," I hissed, my hands trembling inside my coat pockets.
"Tell your mafia boyfriend that his debt is past due," Viktor whispered, stepping back into his car. "We’ll be seeing him very soon."
When Dominic arrived at the chalet that evening, I told him everything.
The warmth vanished from his eyes in a fraction of a second. The old Dominic Vale—the cold, calculating mafia kingpin who ruled the Chicago docks with an iron fist—surfaced instantly. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer, suffocating pressure in the room made it hard to breathe.
"Pack a bag for you and Noah," Dominic said quietly, walking over to the window to check the street outside.
May you like
"Where are we going?" I asked, my chest tightening. "Dominic, we just built a life here. I won't run forever."
"We aren't running, Clara," Dominic replied, turning around with a look of absolute, lethal finality. "We're going to hunt."
