Chapter 7 - Checkmate
“You’re too late, Daniel,” Viktor said, descending the stairs slowly with Claire following a step behind. “By sunrise, every federal agency in the country will have the ledger your wife so generously provided. Your assets are frozen. Your warehouses are being raided by federal marshals as we speak. Carter Logistics is officially defunct.”
I didn't panic. Deep down beneath the shock and the betrayal, the cold, calculated survival instinct of the man who had built an empire from the gutter began to take over.
“You think freezing my bank accounts destroys me, Viktor?” I asked, a dangerous, low chuckle escaping my lips. “I survived the breadlines of the South Side when I was ten years old. Money is just paper. But blood? Blood is permanent.”
I raised my pistol—not at Viktor, and not at Evelyn, but directly at the ornate crystal chandelier hanging above the grand foyer, right above their heads.
Bang.
The gunshot echoed like thunder in the enclosed space. The heavy brass chain holding the multi-ton chandelier shattered. With a screech of tearing metal and the shattering of a thousand crystal shards, the massive fixture plummeted toward the floor.
“Look out!” Evelyn screamed.
Chaos erupted. Viktor shoved Claire out of the way as the chandelier smashed into the marble staircase with an earth-shattering crash, sending shards of glass flying in every direction and plunging the foyer into a cloud of white plaster dust.
“Michael, now!” I roared.
Michael threw a tactical flash-bang grenade toward the front door. The blinding white light and deafening concussive blast swallowed the guards' yells in an instant.
Seizing the confusion, I vaulted over the wreckage of the chandelier, lunging up the remaining steps toward the landing where Claire stood coughing in the dust.
She backed away from me, her eyes wide with sudden terror. “Daniel, stop!”
“You’re coming with me,” I snapped, grabbing her wrist with a grip that was firm but desperately careful not to harm her or our child.
“Let me go!” she cried, struggling against me for the first time. “You can't win this! Viktor has already signed the transfer orders—”
“I don't give a damn about the orders!” I yelled over the ringing in my ears as sirens began to wail in the distance outside. “You think Viktor gives a damn about you or our daughter? You’re just a pawn in his blood feud with Moretti’s legacy! Once he has my empire, you’re just a loose end!”
Before Claire could answer, a heavy blow struck me across the back of the head. I stumbled forward, releasing her wrist as Michael tackled an enforcer who had emerged from the gallery above.
“Boss, we have to go! The entire precinct is outside!” Michael shouted, firing a suppressing burst into the ceiling.
I looked at Claire. She clutched her stomach, pressing herself against the balcony railing, tears finally spilling over her lashes.
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“I’ll find you, Claire,” I whispered through bloodied lips. “And when I do, we finish this conversation.”
I turned, sprinting down the corridor and diving through a shattered stained-glass window onto the side roof, dropping twenty feet into the muddy landscaping below as Michael covered our retreat.
