Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the East SideThe mention of the name hung in the cold air of the control room like a shroud.
Matteo stared at the silver serpent emblem on the flash drive, his jaw tightening until the muscles stood out in sharp relief. The Kolov Syndicate. A ruthless Bratva-backed faction operating out of the shipping docks and industrial warehouses along the Chicago River—men who had spent the last three years trying to muscle into Matteo’s real estate holdings through extortion, arson, and corporate sabotage.
“I thought we crushed their distribution network in South Loop six months ago,” Owen muttered, lowering his weapon slightly as he stared at Julian Vance’s body.
“You don't crush a syndicate by cutting off the tail,” Matteo said coldly, slipping the flash drive into his pocket. He turned his dark, piercing gaze back toward Lena. “Julian Vance was either working with them all along, or he found out something he wasn't supposed to know and they used him to set the trap—then silenced him the moment we started looking.”
“Or both,” Lena added quietly. She knelt beside Julian’s body, her professional training as an observant daughter of an engineer making her notice details others missed. She pointed to a faint smudge of grease on Julian’s collar and a torn thread on his lapel. “He didn't die in his apartment on the thirty-eighth floor, Mr. Viscari. Look at the grease. That’s heavy industrial lubricant used on the main cable pulleys in the penthouse machine room. They dragged him down from the roof.”
Matteo stared at her with a renewed sense of appraisal. Every minute he spent in Lena Ortiz’s company revealed another layer of sharp, unyielding intellect beneath the humble custodial uniform.
“You have a habit of seeing things other people walk right past, Miss Ortiz,” Matteo observed, his voice softening just a fraction.
“When you grow up watching your father worry every night about whether his safety harnesses will hold, you learn to look for the things that don't fit,” Lena replied softly, standing up and dusting off her knees. “Mr. Viscari, if the Kolov Syndicate has root access to your tower's digital and mechanical infrastructure, this building isn't a fortress anymore. It's a glass cage.”
“Then we change the locks,” Matteo declared, his voice ringing with absolute authority. “Owen, lock down every exterior gateway, sever the building’s external network connection from the main grid, and wake up our corporate counsel. We’re going to war.”
“Wait,” Lena said, stepping in front of the primary console before Owen could hit the master disconnect switch. “If you cut the external grid completely, you blind yourself to their digital movements. But if we leave a single honey-pot server active... we can trace the ping back to their local command node.”
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Matteo looked down at her, a dangerous, appreciative smile touching the corner of his mouth. For the first time in a decade, the billionaire mob boss didn't feel entirely alone at the top of his empire.
“Show me how,” he said.
