Chapter 3 - The Fortress on the LakeBefore I could process his words or push his hand away, Christian’s lead lieutenant—a stone-faced man named Marco—stepped up beside the bar, whispering urgently into his ear.
"Boss, the police scanners are lighting up. The rival crew sent a backup team to the block. We need to move now."
Christian didn't break eye contact with me. "Bring her car around."
"Wait!" I gasped, scrambling off the barstool, my boots hitting the slick, blood-stained floor. "No! I’m not going anywhere with you! I don't know who you are, I don't care about your wars—"
Christian grabbed my coat sleeve gently, pulling me against his broad chest before I could take a single step toward the door. His grip was an iron cage, inescapable, yet he didn't hurt me.
"You were seen sitting in this bar when three rival hitters were executed, Clara," Christian said, his voice dropping into a low, deadly register near my ear. "By sunrise, the street bosses in this city will know your name and your face. If I leave you here, you won't survive the night."
The cold reality of his words hit me like a bucket of ice water. The numbness that had protected me all night vanished, replaced by stark, visceral terror.
Within ninety seconds, I was swept out the back door into the rain and shoved into the plush leather back seat of an armored black SUV. Christian slid in beside me, closing the door with a heavy, vacuum-sealed thud. The vehicle surged forward into the dark, wet streets of Chicago, flanked by two identical SUVs.
The ride was silent. Christian sat beside me, reviewing encrypted files on a secure tablet, entirely unbothered by the chaos unfolding across the city. I pressed myself against the passenger door, staring out the tinted window as the neon lights of the South Side faded into the grand, imposing architecture of the Gold Coast.
Thirty minutes later, the SUV turned down a private, heavily guarded driveway overlooking Lake Michigan, stopping in front of a sprawling, iron-gated stone mansion that looked less like a home and more like a fortress.
Armed security guards in suits swept the vehicle with mirrors before raising the gates.
"Where are we?" I choked out, my voice trembling as the car came to a smooth stop under the grand portico.
"My home," Christian replied calmly, shutting off his tablet and stepping out of the car. He held out his hand to help me down. "You'll stay here tonight."
"And tomorrow?" I asked, refusing his hand, stepping out onto the cobblestones on my own.
May you like
Christian looked down at me, his slate-gray eyes gleaming under the exterior lanterns with a dark, unyielding intensity.
"Tomorrow, Clara," Christian whispered, "we discuss your new life."
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