Chapter 9 - The Final LedgerA deafening explosion rocked the entire roof structure.
It wasn’t the helicopter—it was the secondary fuel lines running beneath the helipad floor, rigged years ago by Dominic as a fail-safe against hostile takeovers.
The floor beneath the mercenary’s boots suddenly gave way in a brilliant flash of orange and white fire. The shockwave blew the glass doors inward, creating a massive vacuum that sucked the debris, the mercenary, and the stretcher outward into the Chicago night sky.
With a superhuman leap, Dominic lunged forward through the swirling smoke and debris, diving over the crumbling edge of the roof.
His massive, iron-grip hands shot out into the gale-force wind, catching the edge of the blanket strapped to the stretcher just as it plummeted into the abyss.
“I’ve got you!” Dominic roared, his muscles straining to the absolute breaking point as the weight of the stretcher pulled him toward the drop.
I threw myself onto the wet concrete, sliding across the slick surface, and grabbed Dominic by his tactical belt, planting my heels firmly against a steel anchor bolt in the roof. Together, with our muscles burning and our lungs screaming, we hauled the stretcher back up over the ledge and onto the solid concrete.
Lily rolled off the stretcher, coughing from the smoke, and threw her small arms directly around my neck, burying her face into my shredded sweater.
“I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” she sobbed softly into my shoulder.
“I’m not going anywhere, little bird,” I whispered, holding her tight as the rain washed the soot and blood from our faces.
Dominic stood up slowly, looking down at the burning wreckage of the helicopter tumbling into the dark waters of Lake Michigan far below. The sirens in the distance were growing louder—police cruisers, ambulance sirens, and the private enforcers of the Rosetti empire sealing off the entire district.
Marcus Rosetti was securely locked in the basement vault, awaiting a trial from which there would be no appeals. The Syndicate of the Seven had lost their primary foothold in North America in a single, devastating night.
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Dominic walked over, knelt beside us, and gently placed a heavy, warm hand on both of our shoulders.
“It’s over,” Dominic said, his voice thick with emotion. “The debt is paid, Julian. In full.”
