Chapter 7 - A Knock at the Iron GatesTen minutes later, the heavy brass knocker on the front door pounded through the mansion.
Callum walked down the grand staircase alone, his posture straight, his black suit impeccably tailored. When he pulled the oak door open, Special Agent Miller stood on the threshold, flanked by two armed local detectives. Miller was a tall, sharp-featured man with wire-rimmed glasses and a cold, predatory smile.
"Vale," Miller said, not bothering to wait for an invitation as he stepped past Callum into the grand foyer. "Nice place. Must take a lot of laundered cash to keep the floorboards this shiny."
Callum closed the door slowly behind them, the heavy thud echoing through the hall like a gunshot. "You're trespassing, Miller. Where’s your warrant?"
Miller pulled a folded paper from his inside coat pocket and waved it casually. "Judge signed off an hour ago. We received an anonymous tip that a federal witness—a woman named Maeve Donnelly—is being harbored on these premises against her will."
Callum’s expression remained an icy mask, though his internal fury was a roaring furnace. "There is no prisoner here. My staff is free to leave whenever they choose."
"Great! Let's ask her ourselves," Miller said, taking a step toward the stairs. "Where is she? Third-floor guest suite? Or do you keep your domestic help locked in the basement with your other business assets?"
Before Miller could take another step, a soft click echoed from the top of the stairs.
Callum and the federal agents all looked up.
Maeve stood at the landing. She had changed into a simple navy dress, her bandaged wrist resting neatly against her skirt. Her face was pale, but her eyes were remarkably steady.
"I'm not being harbored, Agent Miller," Maeve said, her voice clear and carrying effortlessly down the cavernous hall.
May you like
Miller sneered, flashing a condescending grin. "Maeve. It's good to see you're alive. The Chicago boys spent two years looking for you, and here you are, playing house with a mob boss. Come down here, sweetheart. We're taking you into protective custody."
Maeve didn't move. She looked down at the federal agent, then past him to Callum, who stood immovable at the foot of the stairs like a guardian monolith.
