Chapter 1 - THE SHADOW IN THE EAST WINGThe scent of wet asphalt and menthol cigarettes cut through the sterile hospital grade air of the eastern suite like a rusted knife. Victor Rivas stood over the bed, his boots leaving damp prints on the imported Italian marble that Chloe Harrington would no doubt complain about to the housekeeping staff tomorrow morning.
If there was a tomorrow morning.
"So this is the king of the Chicago waterfront," Victor muttered, his voice a low, gravel-scraping baritone that vibrated straight through the mattress. "Look at him. Bound to a bed like a stuck pig, and his own fiancé is holding the bucket."
"Keep your voice down," Chloe snapped, her heels clicking as she paced toward the reinforced glass overlooking the dark, churning expanse of Lake Michigan. "The night staff changes at midnight. Gallagher is already off the property. If anyone hears us—if anyone even suspects—we are both dead before the sun hits the lake."
Nicholas Vescari felt a bead of sweat trace a slow, agonizing path down his temple. The paralytic was beginning to wear off at the edges, a terrifying sensation like thousands of microscopic needles dragging through his nervous system, but his limbs remained frozen in their counterfeit death. His eyelids were still clamped shut, iron weights forged by betrayal and chemistry.
"Let him suspect," Victor laughed softly, a dry, humorless sound. A metallic click echoed in the quiet room—the unmistakable sound of a Glock 19 clearing its holster. "He’s been a thorn in my uncle’s side for three years, Chloe. Three years of blocked routes, hijacked shipments, and bodies floating past Navy Pier. And all it took to bring him down was a woman with expensive tastes and a short memory."
"I have expensive tastes because I earned them," Chloe hissed, stepping close enough that Nicholas could hear the furious rustle of her cashmere coat. "I spent four years playing the devoted bride to a man who looked at spreadsheets the way other men look at their mistresses. I didn't betray him for pocket change, Victor. I betrayed him because he was standing still while the world moved on."
"And now he’s going to move permanently," Victor said.
The weight of a hand descended onto the edge of the mattress, right beside Nicholas’s paralyzed thigh. The fabric dipped.
"Do it quickly," Chloe whispered, her voice dropping an octave, losing its socialite polish and revealing the cold, jagged edge beneath. "Make it look like a sudden cardiac arrest. The monitor is already primed to log a failure if we pull the primary lead."
Nicholas felt the frigid barrel of the gun press gently against the skin of his forehead, right between his eyebrows.
Beep.
Hiss.
Beep.
May you like
The machine kept its rhythm, a mechanical mockery of life ticking away in a room where death had already moved in. Nicholas forced his mind to anchor, waiting for the split second the paralytic would release his grip on his index finger. Just one twitch. Just one contraction.
Then, a soft scrape echoed from the shadows near the doorway.
