Chapter 3 - The Ambush at River NorthThe rain was coming down in sheets as three heavy, black SUVs sped through the deserted, slick streets of downtown Chicago, their engine roars echoing off the glass skyscrapers of the Financial District.
Inside the lead vehicle, Dominic sat in the backseat, his broad frame filling the leather interior. Beside him sat Grace, wearing a dark tactical jacket over a lightweight ballistic vest. In her hands, she held a compact 9mm handgun Marcus had given her, her fingers resting lightly against the frame with surprising familiarity.
Dominic watched her from the corner of his eye. "You know how to handle that?"
"My father took me to the range every weekend since I was twelve," Grace said, her eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. "He insisted his daughter know how to defend herself in a city full of wolves."
"Your father was a wise man," Dominic murmured. He reached out, his thick fingers lightly wrapping over hers on the grip of the pistol, holding her gaze in the dim interior light. "When we enter that building, you stay behind Marcus and me. Do you understand? I am taking Arthur down tonight, but I will not let you become collateral damage."
Grace felt a warm, golden heat burst through her chest at his protective words. "I'm not easy to break, Dominic."
"I know," he whispered softly, his thumb gently smoothing over her knuckles. "That's what frightens me about you."
The SUVs screeched to a halt outside the polished limestone entrance of the Vale Enterprises corporate headquarters in River North. The building was completely dark, save for the top floor, where a faint amber light flickered through the heavy glass facade.
Marcus stepped out first, weapon drawn, signaling the four tactical guards behind them. "Perimeter is clear, boss. Front lobby security guards are missing. Someone cleared them out ten minutes ago."
"Arthur's private security," Dominic growled, stepping out into the cold rain and holding his arm out to shield Grace as she exited beside him. "He’s burning evidence."
They breached the heavy glass doors of the lobby, their boots squeaking against the polished black granite. The elevator bank was shut down, forcing the team to move quietly up the wide marble stairwell toward the third-floor administrative suites where the main servers were housed.
The air inside the stairwell smelled faintly of ozone and burning plastic.
As they reached the third-floor landing, Marcus held up a hand, signaling a halt. He peeked through the heavy fire door's wire-reinforced glass.
"Two men in tactical gear outside Arthur’s corner office," Marcus whispered back to Dominic. "They're throwing hard drives into a portable incendiary bag."
Dominic’s eyes turned to flint. He looked at Marcus, gave a short two-finger signal, and prepared to breach.
"On three," Dominic breathed. "One... two..."
Marcus kicked the heavy door open with a deafening BOOM.
"DOMINIC VALE! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" Marcus roared, advancing through the smoke with his rifle raised.
The two mercenary guards turned instantly, raising silenced submachine guns.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Automatic gunfire shattered the glass partition behind Dominic’s team as they dove for cover behind the heavy mahogany reception desks. Dominic rolled smoothly across the floor, coming up on one knee, raising his semi-automatic pistol, and firing three precise rounds.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The lead mercenary dropped like a stone, his weapon clattering across the tile. The second guard scrambled backward toward the corner office, firing wildly blind around the doorframe.
"Grace, stay down!" Dominic commanded, firing two suppressive shots to keep the mercenary pinned.
But Grace wasn't staying down.
Recognizing the layout of the office from her three years of reviewing corporate schematics, she slipped quietly through a side maintenance corridor behind the reception area, flanking the surviving guard from behind.
As the mercenary leaned out to aim at Dominic, Grace stepped out of the shadow of the server room door, raised her pistol with both hands, and fired a single, clean shot into the guard’s right shoulder.
BANG!
The man let out a agonizing yell, dropping his submachine gun and collapsing against the wall, clutching his shattered shoulder.
Dominic rushed around the corner, his gun trained on the wounded mercenary, before spinning around to see Grace standing ten feet away, her gun still steady, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps.
Dominic stared at her in utter disbelief, a sudden burst of thrilling adrenaline surging through his veins.
"I told you to stay behind me," he growled, though the look in his eyes was one of pure, unadulterated awe.
"And let you take all the credit?" Grace replied, her lips twitching with a faint, fierce smile.
Before Dominic could respond, a low, smooth voice echoed from inside the dark inner office.
"Ah. The young wolf and his brave little housemaid. How dramatic."
Dominic’s face instantly darkened into a mask of pure murder. He stepped in front of Grace, covering her with his body as he pushed the heavy double doors of the executive suite open.
Sitting behind the massive glass desk was Arthur Vale.
He was sixty years old, impeccably dressed in a bespoke navy suit, a glass of expensive scotch in his hand. Sitting on the desk beside him was a open briefcase containing two heavy satellite phones and a stack of forged diplomatic passports.
Standing beside Arthur, her face pale as death and eyes wide with terror, was Vanessa Caldwell.
"Uncle Arthur," Dominic said softly, his voice echoing like a death sentence in the vast, dark office. "You should have stayed in Florida."
Arthur took a slow sip of his scotch, entirely unbothered by the heavy firearms trained on his chest.
"Dominic," Arthur sighed, setting his glass down with a delicate clink. "You always were your father's son. Too stubborn, too honorable, too blind to see the bigger picture. Do you really think this city belongs to you because your name is on the door? Chicago is run by men who understand that loyalty is a commodity, not a virtue."
"You killed Thomas Mercer," Grace said, stepping out from behind Dominic, her gun leveled squarely at Arthur's face. "You ruined his family and stole his legacy."
Arthur looked at Grace, a condescending smile touching his lips. "Thomas Mercer was a small man who stood in the way of a hundred-million-dollar expansion. I didn't kill him, my dear. He killed himself when he realized he wasn't strong enough to play in our league. Just as you aren't strong enough to stop what comes next."
Vanessa stepped forward, her hands shaking as she looked at Dominic. "Dominic... please... listen to me! Arthur forced me! He threatened my father! I didn't want to hurt you!"
"Shut up, Vanessa," Dominic spat, not even glancing at her. His eyes remained locked on his uncle. "It's over, Arthur. My tech team has full access to the USB drive. The Feds, the port authority, and every syndicate boss in the Midwest already have copies of your offshore transfers. You have nowhere left to run."
Arthur’s smile finally faded, replaced by a cold, desperate malice.
"You think I'm running, nephew?" Arthur sneered. He reached beneath the edge of the desk and pressed a heavy red button on a master override console.
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Instantly, the heavy steel security shutters throughout the top floor began descending with a deafening, mechanical roar, sealing every exit in seconds.
"If I can't have the Vale empire, Dominic," Arthur hissed, pulling a small remote detonator from his pocket, "nobody will."
