Chapter 5 - The Trap SpringsThe crisp autumn air of Chicago offered no comfort as Lena stepped out of her apartment building to pick up groceries. She had kept a low profile, wearing a loose oversized sweater and a dark beanie pulled low over her forehead. Her morning sickness had eased slightly into a constant, gentle nausea, and she could feel the subtle, profound shift in her body—she was growing rounder, carrying two little lives that depended entirely on her caution.
She clutched her canvas tote bag tightly as she walked down the quiet sidewalk. Suddenly, a sleek black van pulled abruptly to the curb, cutting off her path.
Before she could scream or turn to run, the side door slid open with a sharp screech. Two burly men in plain clothes jumped out, grabbed her arms before she could react, and shoved her inside the vehicle.
"Hey! Let me go! Help!" Lena screamed, kicking furiously, but a heavy hand muffled her mouth with a chemically treated cloth.
The sweet, pungent smell of chloroform invaded her senses. The world tilted violently sideways, the gray Chicago sky spinning out of focus, and darkness swallowed her whole.
When Lena regained consciousness, her head was throbbing with a dull, splitting pain. She blinked against the harsh fluorescent glare of an unfamiliar room. Her hands were bound behind her back with industrial zip ties, and she was tied firmly to a metal chair in what looked like an abandoned industrial warehouse near the old docks.
"Well, well, well. Look who woke up," a smooth, chilling voice echoed from the shadows.
A man stepped into the light. He was older than Dante, with silver-streaked hair and eyes that held zero warmth—Victor Vance.
Lena’s breath caught in her throat. "Victor... What is the meaning of this? Let me go!"
"Oh, sweet niece," Victor smiled patronizingly, crouching down so he was at eye level with her. "You share my blood, yet you married the beast that caged our family out of the shipping syndicate. I’m simply here to collect a debt."
"I don't know what you're talking about! Dante and I are separated—we're getting a divorce!" Lena spat, trying desperately to keep her voice from shaking as she shielded her abdomen instinctively with her bound posture.
"Divorce or not, your maiden name is still tied to the North Shore trust fund," Victor said, pulling a crisp legal document and a pen from his coat pocket. "Sign these transfer papers over to my shell corporation, and perhaps I’ll let you walk out of here alive. Refuse, and... well, let's just say accidents happen in industrial districts all the time."
Lena stared at the papers. She knew instantly what this meant. If she signed, Victor would cripple Dante’s empire, plunging Chicago into a bloody gang war. But if she didn't sign... she and her unborn twins would likely be killed right here in the dark.
"I won't sign it," Lena said defiantly, her chin held high. "Do your worst."
Victor’s smile faded into a cruel sneer. He raised his hand to signal one of his thugs to step forward with a heavy iron pipe, but before the blow could land, the heavy iron doors of the warehouse exploded inward with a deafening crash.
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BOOM!
Sparks flew as a hail of automatic gunfire shattered the overhead lights, plunging the warehouse into sudden, chaotic darkness punctuated by muzzle flashes and screams.
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