Chapter 5 - Fire on Thirty-First StreetThe downfall of Curtis Vaughn and Vanessa Sinclair sent shockwaves through the political and underworld structures of Chicago. Within twenty-four hours, the local news was dominated by the grand jury indictments, exposing two decades of corruption and completely exonerating the name of Frank Kelly.
However, a cornered rat is always the most dangerous.
While Curtis Vaughn was locked in a federal holding cell, his right-hand enforcer—a ruthless mercenary named Hank Mercer—refused to go down without a fight. Mercer knew that the physical paper trail—the original hand-written union journals kept by Frank Kelly before his death—were still hidden in the vault of the abandoned Local 419 building on Thirty-First Street. If those physical ledgers reached the grand jury on Monday, Mercer and seven other high-ranking syndicate lieutenants would face lifetime sentences.
On a rainy Sunday night, three days after the gala, Ellie received a desperate phone call on her secure line.
It was Mr. Callahan, the elderly caretaker of the old union hall, who had been a dear friend of her late father.
"Ellie... they're here," Callahan’s terrified whisper came through the receiver over the sound of breaking glass. "Men with guns... they're tearing open your father's old office in the basement... they're looking for the steel box!"
"Callahan!" Ellie cried out. "Get out of there! Leave now!"
"I can't... they blocked the—" The line went dead with a sickening crack.
"Ellie!" Nico sprinted into the penthouse living room, having heard her cry.
"They're at the union hall," Ellie gasped, her eyes wide with terror. "Mercer's men! They're going to destroy my father's original journals and hurt Callahan!"
Nico didn't hesitate. He pulled his heavy black coat from the closet and drew a sleek customized pistol from his shoulder holster. "Arthur! Rally the vanguard! We move to Thirty-First Street now!"
"I'm coming with you," Ellie declared, grabbing her coat.
"Absolutely not," Nico commanded, grabbing her shoulders. "It's too dangerous."
"It's my father's memory, Nico!" she yelled back, looking him straight in the eyes with fierce determination. "I spent my whole life hiding from the shadow of that building! I'm not hiding anymore!"
Nico stared at her for a long second, seeing the unyielding resolve in her soul. He let out a sharp breath. "Stay in the back of the armored car until I clear the building. Do you hear me?"
"Deal," she said.
Ten minutes later, three black SUVs tore through the pouring rain, screeching to a halt outside the dark, imposing brick façade of the Local 419 building on Thirty-First Street. Smoke was already rising from the basement windows—Mercer was trying to burn the building down to erase the evidence.
Nico breached the front doors first, his men pouring in behind him like shadows. Gunfire instantly erupted through the hollow, dusty corridors of the union hall. The acrid smell of burning wood and gunpowder filled the air.
Nico moved with terrifying lethal precision, ducking behind concrete pillars and taking out Mercer's shooters one by one. His men pushed the attackers back toward the rear stairwell, securing the upper floors.
In the confusion of the firefight, Ellie saw a figure darting toward the basement stairs carrying a heavy steel box.
It was Hank Mercer.
Disregarding Nico's order, Ellie slipped out of the side door and ran around the exterior alleyway toward the basement loading dock, cutting off Mercer's escape route.
Mercer burst through the metal fire door into the rain-slicked alley, holding the steel box in one hand and a drawn weapon in the other. He froze as he saw Ellie standing beneath the alley streetlight, blocking his path to his getaway vehicle.
"Out of the way, bitch!" Mercer roared, raising his gun.
"Drop the box, Mercer!" a thundering voice roared behind him.
Mercer spun around. Nico stood at the mouth of the alley, his weapon leveled.
Panic seized Mercer. In a split-second act of desperate violence, he swung his gun back toward Ellie and squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
"Ellie!" Nico screamed.
Nico didn't think. He threw his body forward across the wet asphalt, placing himself directly between Mercer's bullet and Ellie.
The round struck Nico in the upper left shoulder with a violent force. Blood exploded across his black coat, but he didn't stop. Driven by sheer, unadulterated instinct to protect the woman he loved, Nico fired three rapid shots through the rain.
Every round found its mark. Mercer collapsed onto the pavement, the steel box crashing to the ground beside him.
"Nico!" Ellie shrieked, dropping to her knees beside him as he hit the wet ground.
"I’m... I’m fine," Nico groaned, coughing as he pressed his hand over his bleeding shoulder.
"You idiot! You took a bullet for me!" Ellie cried, tears streaming down her face as she ripped off her scarf and pressed it firmly against his wound to stop the bleeding.
Nico looked up into her tear-streaked face, a small, genuine smile touching his lips despite the agonizing pain. He reached up with his uninjured hand, gently cupping her face.
"I told you," Nico whispered, his voice weak but filled with absolute conviction. "Nobody touches what belongs to me. And you... Ellie Kelly... belong in my life."
Ellie sobbed, pressing her forehead against his. "You're crazy, Nico Vitali."
"Probably," he murmured, his dark eyes shining with profound warmth. "But I’m yours."
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Around them, the wail of police sirens and fire trucks echoed through the night air. Arthur and his men poured into the alley, securing the area and securing the steel box containing Frank Kelly’s original journals intact.
The fire on Thirty-First Street was put out, and the last remnants of the conspiracy were burned away forever.
