Chapter 6 - The Dawn of a New Empire
Time seemed to slow down to a grinding crawl.
Lawson calculated the angles in a fraction of a second. If he lunged, the sniper across the courtyard would take him down. If he threw his body across the doorway, Crosby’s shotgun blast would pierce both him and the children.
He was out of moves. The chess game he had played for twenty years had finally reached its checkmate.
And then, the shadows behind Crosby shifted.
Prescott Hale didn't come from the front. He dropped silently from the overhead ceiling maintenance hatch directly behind Crosby’s flanking thugs, a heavy combat knife in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other.
Thud. Thud.
Before Crosby could pull the trigger, Prescott drove the butt of his pistol into the back of the lead enforcer’s skull while sweeping the second man’s legs out from under him.
Crosby spun around, cursing wildly, swinging his shotgun toward Prescott.
Bang!
The shot went wide, shattering the glass sconce on the wall.
Lawson didn't wait for a second chance. He lunged forward across the hallway, closing the distance between them in three long strides. He grabbed the barrel of Crosby’s shotgun, wrenched it upward with terrifying raw strength, and drove his fist straight into Crosby’s jaw with a sickening crunch of bone.
Crosby staggered backward, tripping over his own fallen men, crashing hard onto the marble floor.
Lawson stood over him, his face shadowed, his knuckles dripping with blood. He pressed the cold barrel of his Sig Sauer squarely between Crosby’s eyes.
“You stepped onto my property,” Lawson whispered, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. “You threatened my children. And you interrupted a very delicate medical trial.”
Crosby choked out a bloody laugh, his eyes wide with terror. “Kill me… and the rest of the Outfit will burn this whole city down to find you.”
“Let them try,” Lawson said softly.
He didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he pistol-whipped Crosby across the temple, sending the rival boss crashing into total, absolute unconsciousness.
“Prescott,” Lawson called out without looking back. “Tie him up, throw him in the sub-level holding cell with the rats, and alert the federal task force that we have a package ready for pickup.”
Prescott wiped sweat from his forehead. “The federal task force, boss? Since when do we call the feds?”
“Since I decided I’m done playing in the shadows,” Lawson said, turning slowly back toward the medical suite.
Inside the room, the monitors were still pulsing with that steady, beautiful green line. Jonah and Blythe were sleeping deeply, their breathing calm, regular, and alive.
Elena was standing beside their beds, carefully packing her remaining vials back into her canvas duffel bag. Her hands were steady, but a faint smudge of soot stained her cheek.
Lawson walked into the room, stopping just behind her. He stood there for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of his children’s chests, before looking down at the woman who had walked through his gates with nothing and changed the entire trajectory of his universe in one terrible, magnificent night.
“You saved them,” Lawson said quietly. His voice had lost its hard, jagged edge, softening into something almost vulnerable.
Elena turned to face him, her amber eyes reflecting the soft blue glow of the monitors. “I told you I would.”
“What do you want, Elena?” Lawson asked, his gaze locked onto hers. “Name your price. Money, property, an entire pharmaceutical lab in Switzerland with your name on the door. It’s yours.”
Elena zipped her canvas bag, slung the strap over her shoulder, and walked toward the door. As she passed him, she paused, looking up into his dark, intense eyes.
“I don't want your money, Lawson Mercer,” she said softly, a faint, enigmatic smile touching the corners of her lips. “I want to see how this story ends. And I think you’re going to need a very good compliance officer if you’re planning on going legit.”
Lawson watched her walk out into the hallway, the first true dawn of winter breaking over Lake Michigan, painting the Chicago skyline in brilliant strokes of gold and fire.
May you like
The king of the underworld smiled.
For the first time in five years, the house was quiet. And the children were going to wake up tomorrow.
