Chapter 5 - The Shadow of the Syndicate
Peace in the underworld, however, is never permanent.
Three weeks after Chloe’s rescue, a rival faction within the Chicago syndicates—led by a ruthless capo named Viktor Moreno—caught wind that Silas Mercer had taken in a civilian woman and installed her in his private estate. Viewing it as a sign of emotional vulnerability, Moreno decided to strike.
It was a Tuesday evening. Silas was away in the city attending a high-level summit with shipping port authorities.
Chloe was in the main drawing room reading a book when the estate’s security alarms suddenly shrieked to life. The warm, ambient lighting flickered and died, plunging the mansion into emergency red illumination.
Heavy boots echoed across the marble foyer.
Chloe’s heart slammed against her ribs. Fear tried to claw its way back up her throat, but the old Chloe—the one who cowered in alleys—stayed dead. The new Chloe stood up, her jaw tightening.
The double doors of the drawing room burst open. Two masked men armed with silenced submachine guns stepped inside, sweeping the room.
“There she is,” one grunted in Russian. “Grab her. Moreno wants leverage against Mercer.”
As the first man lunged forward to grab her, Chloe didn't freeze. Years of ducking, dodging, and surviving hostile environments kicked in. She grabbed a heavy cast-iron decorative sculpture off the mantelpiece and slammed it down with her right hand directly across the intruder’s kneecap.
The man let out a howl of agony, collapsing to the floor.
The second intruder raised his weapon, cursing in frustration, but before he could pull the trigger, the glass of the French doors shattered inward in a shower of brilliant shards.
Bruno and a squad of elite security guards swarmed the room from the garden terrace. Within five seconds, the second intruder was disarmed, slammed face-first into the hardwood floor, and pinned securely.
Bruno stepped over the restrained intruder, looking at Chloe with profound, unadulterated respect.
“Are you alright, Miss Bennett?” Bruno asked, catching his breath.
May you like
“I’m fine,” Chloe said, dropping the heavy iron sculpture onto the rug with a dull thud, her breathing slightly elevated but her hands steady. “Call Silas. Tell him his house was breached, and tell him I want Moreno’s head on a silver platter.”
Bruno grinned—a rare, terrifying sight. “Yes, ma’am.”
