Chapter 4 - Blood in the WaterBy dawn, the financial markets of Chicago were in a quiet state of panic.
By noon, the bloodbath moved from the boardrooms to the streets.
Giana stood in the executive washroom, splashing cold water on her face. She had changed back into a sharp, charcoal-gray pantsuit—her armor reinstated. But the crimson dress hung neatly inside her garment bag behind the door, a silent, mocking reminder that the old life was gone for good.
When she walked back out into the main office, Dominic Russo was pacing near her desk, his face grim.
“Where is he?” Giana asked, her voice sharp.
“Locked in the war room with the port authorities,” Dominic said, tossing a manila folder onto her desk. “And you’re going to want to see this. Valkov didn't wait for us to make the next move. They hit our primary distribution warehouse on 18th Street an hour ago.”
Giana opened the folder. Photographs of splintered steel doors, charred inventory boxes, and three dead security guards stared back at her.
“Casualties?” she asked, her voice dropping into a dangerous, clinical calm.
“Three of ours,” Dominic gritted out, his jaw tight. “And two of theirs left behind as a message. They want a sit-down tonight. Neutral ground. The abandoned rail yard by the industrial district.”
Before Dominic could finish the sentence, the heavy oak doors of Alessio’s private office swung open.
Alessio stepped out. He wore a dark wool overcoat, his collar turned up against the bitter Chicago wind. His eyes swept over Dominic and landed instantly on Giana.
“Cancel the sit-down,” Alessio said coldly.
“Boss, we can’t,” Dominic argued. “If we don’t respond, they’ll think—”
“I didn't say we’re hiding, Dominic,” Alessio interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like ice. “I said cancel the sit-down because we aren't meeting them on their terms. We’re taking the port back. Every inch of it.”
He walked straight toward Giana’s desk, stopping just inches away. He didn't look at Dominic. His entire world narrowed down to the woman standing behind the computer screens.
“Giana,” Alessio said quietly. “Pack your laptop. You’re coming with me.”
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“Alessio, the rail yard is a war zone—”
“That’s why you’re staying by my side,” he interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. He reached out, his knuckles brushing her cheekbone in a rare, public display of tenderness that made Dominic look away in prompt respect. “If I’m going to tear their empire apart, I want my brain, and my heart, right where I can protect them.”
