Chapter 1 - The Drive to The Blue LanternThe rain hammered against the windshield of the armored SUV, blurring the neon lights of Ravenport into smeared streaks of red and blue. Adrian Vale gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned translucent.
Through the Bluetooth speakers, the steady, terrified sound of Claire’s ragged breathing filled the cabin.
"Tell me about Ohio, Claire," Adrian repeated, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that usually made grown men drop their weapons.
"My... my hometown," she whispered, her voice muffled as if she was pressing her hand against her mouth. "A small place. Willow Creek. Nothing ever happened there. That's why I left."
"Why did you leave?" Owen asked from the passenger seat, his eyes scanning the dark streets as they tore through a sharp turn. He was tapping frantically on his tablet, pulling up blue-prints and criminal databases. "Focus, Claire. Keep talking to him."
"My father," Claire choked out, a sob breaking through. "He... he had gambling debts. Bad ones. The kind that follow you home. I thought if I came to the big city, I could make enough money to pull us out. I never wanted this world, Adrian. I swear I didn't know who Derek Walsh really was until tonight."
Adrian’s jaw tightened. "Nobody blames you. Keep your eyes on the door. I'm two minutes away."
Owen turned to Adrian, his face pale under the dashboard lights. "Boss, I just cross-referenced Derek Walsh. He’s not just a freight manager for the Hawthorne crew. He’s Victor Hawthorne’s nephew. And Victor has been looking for a reason to spark a war with us for six months."
Adrian didn't blink. "Then he found one."
"It's a trap, Adrian," Owen warned, pulling a suppressed Glock from his holster and checking the magazine. "If Hawthorne's nephew lured your secretary there, he didn't do it for extortion. He did it because he knows how valuable she is to your operation. She schedules your meetings, Adrian. She knows the dummy corporations. She knows the logistics of every shipment we bring into the port."
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Adrian’s foot slammed harder on the gas pedal. The SUV surged forward, roaring down Mason Street like a mechanical beast scenting blood.
"She is my secretary, Owen," Adrian said, his voice cold enough to freeze the air inside the car. "And nobody touches what is mine."
