Chapter 7 - THE GHOST FROM CHICAGOThe message sent from Libby’s phone didn't travel far before it was intercepted.
In a high-tech surveillance room on the third floor of the North Hill estate, Viktor sat in front of a bank of glowing monitors, watching real-time data feeds stream across the screens. A red alert flashed on the secondary terminal—an encrypted satellite ping originating from the basement of Blackwoods restaurant, directed straight toward an unlisted relay station in Chicago, Illinois.
Viktor didn't blink. He reached out and pressed the intercom button connecting directly to Dante’s private study.
"Boss," Viktor said evenly. "We have movement."
A heavy pause on the other end, followed by Dante’s deep, calm voice: "Go ahead."
"The girl—Libby. She just reached out to Salvatore Rossi's courier network in the Midwest. She’s selling us out. Telling them about the dog, the girl, and the vulnerability at the estate."
In the study upstairs, Dante Vance slowly set down his fountain pen. He looked across the room where Molly sat curled up on the oversized leather sofa, reading a book on art history while Caesar slept peacefully with his massive chin resting across her ankles.
"Let her make the call," Dante said softly, a dark, dangerous edge creeping into his voice. "Let Rossi think he has an open window into my house."
"And the girl?" Viktor asked. "Should we relocate her?"
May you like
Dante looked over at Molly, watching the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders, the peaceful expression on her face for the first time in years.
"No," Dante replied, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "She stays right here. It's time Rossi learned what happens when you try to take something that belongs to me."
