Chapter 5 - THE SHADOWS OF CICEROThe courthouse steps were a war zone.
As Nathan and Mara pushed through the heavy glass doors, they were instantly blinded by a wall of flashbulbs and deafened by a tidal wave of shouting reporters thrusting microphones toward them.
“Mr. Kang! Is the indictment a setup?” “Miss Brooks! How does a nineteen-year-old dismantle a federal case?” “Is it true the U.S. Attorney is under criminal investigation?”
Nathan didn’t say a word. He placed a heavy, protective hand on Mara’s shoulder, shielding her from the crushing press mob as Victor Han cleared a path toward the idling black Lincoln Navigator parked at the curb.
They climbed into the back seat, the heavy doors slamming shut and cutting off the roaring noise of the city.
The Navigator pulled away from the curb, merging into the heavy Chicago traffic heading west toward Cicero.
For the first five miles, no one spoke. Nathan stared out the tinted window at the gray, freezing lake, his face expressionless. Victor was frantically typing on a secure encrypted phone in the front passenger seat.
Finally, Nathan turned his head and looked at Mara. She was calmly organizing her papers back into the leather folder, her expression as cool as if she had just finished a routine college exam.
“You realized it three months ago, didn't you?” Nathan asked softly.
Mara looked up. “Realized what?”
“That Vance wasn’t acting alone. That Delgado was using the feds as a proxy war.”
Mara closed the folder with a soft snap. “It wasn’t hard to figure out, Nathan. You taught me how to look at people not by what they say, but by who profits when they fall.”
Nathan let out a short, dark chuckle—the first real laugh he had given in months. He shook his head, leaning back against the leather upholstery.
“I told you under that bridge ten years ago that taking you in was a mistake I chose to make on purpose,” Nathan said, his voice dropping into a quiet, intense seriousness. “I was wrong. It was the only smart thing I ever did.”
“Don't get sentimental, Nathan,” Mara said, though a faint, rare smile touched the corner of her lips. “We aren't done yet.”
Victor turned around from the front seat, looking back with a grim expression. “She’s right, boss. Word on the street is moving fast. Marcus Delgado knows his proxy play in federal court just blew up in his face. He’s panicking. And when men like Delgado panic, they don’t go to court—they go to war.”
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Nathan’s eyes hardened instantly. The warmth disappeared, replaced by the lethal, frozen focus of a ghost story coming back to life.
“Let him come,” Nathan said softly. “We’ve got a score to settle in Cicero.”
