Chapter 4 - Ashes in Warehouse FourThe southern edge of Chicago smelled of burning rubber, salt water, and charred timber.
Flames flickered weakly against the skeletal steel beams of Warehouse Four as firefighter hoses hissed steam into the night. Dominic stepped out of his black armored SUV, his trench coat snapping in the bitter lake wind. Evelyn walked right beside him, her tailored wool coat buttoned to her chin, her face an unreadable mask of composure.
Viktor met them near the police tape, wiping soot from his forehead.
"The fire department is calling it an electrical fault," Viktor muttered, keeping his voice low as he handed Dominic a singed Manila folder. "They’re wrong. Someone used high-grade thermite charges on the support pillars. It was designed to erase every digital and physical ledger stored in the basement archive."
Dominic flipped open the folder. Inside were photographs taken inside the security office before the roof collapsed.
A man sat slumped over a mahogany desk. A single bullet hole was cleanly punched between his eyes.
"Marcus Vance," Dominic said, naming the dead accountant. "My brother’s right-hand man. Everyone thought he died in the car bomb with Julian and Sarah six months ago."
"They staged the crash," Evelyn noted, peering over Dominic’s shoulder at the photographs. Her eyes traced the angle of the bullet wound and the position of the dead man's hands. "The highway explosion wasn't an accident, Dominic. It was a controlled demolition of a vehicle carrying people who knew too much."
Viktor blinked, eyeing Evelyn with open suspicion. He still hadn't forgiven her for the nursery incident. "With all due respect, Miss Hart, you’ve only been in this family for two months. You don't know how the old man ran things—"
"Viktor," Dominic interrupted, his voice cutting like a razor. "She saved Noah's life tonight. Drop the attitude."
Viktor swallowed hard, nodding curtly. "Yes, boss. But there's more. Look at the back of the photograph."
Dominic turned the picture over. Scrawled in smeared red grease pencil across the back was a single, chilling phrase:
THE NORTH REMEMBERS THE BLOOD DEBT.
"That's my father’s handwriting," Evelyn whispered, her breath catching in her throat.
Dominic turned sharply to look at her. "Your father? Arthur Hart?"
"No," Evelyn said, her eyes widening as a terrible realization dawned on her. "Not my biological father. My uncle. The man who took control of the northern syndicate after my parents died... the man who arranged this marriage."
A sudden burst of blinding light cut through the gloom of the yards.
High above them, on the catwalk of the neighboring grain silo, a red laser dot flickered across the chest of Dominic’s lead bodyguard.
Crack.
May you like
A sniper’s bullet tore through the night air, shattering the bodyguard’s shoulder and sending him crashing to the concrete.
"Ambush!" Viktor roared, drawing his weapon. "Get down! Down!"
