lighthouse

Chapter 4 - The RaidThe rain had returned by evening, turning the asphalt of the Gold Coast into a slick, reflective mirror of red and blue emergency lights.

Dante and I sat in the back of an unmarked black SUV parked three blocks down from the sprawling Castellano limestone mansion. Through the tinted windows, we watched the federal tactical team—dozens of agents in heavy tactical gear, automatic rifles raised—swarm the front security gates.

Flashbangs lit up the night sky with blinding white flares, followed by the dull, rhythmic thud of a battering ram smashing through the solid oak double doors of the estate.

“They’re inside,” Dante said, his radio crackling with encrypted chatter from the lead federal agent.

“Good,” I murmured, watching through binoculars as figures were hauled out in handcuffs.

Among them, caught in the harsh glare of news vans that had materialized out of nowhere within minutes, was Roman.

He wasn't wearing his tuxedo now. He was dressed in a simple black silk robe, his hair disheveled, his face twisted in a mask of furious, unadulterated shock as federal marshals shoved him down the marble steps toward a waiting paddy wagon. He scanned the crowd of reporters and flashing cameras, his eyes wild and desperate, searching for a face he recognized.

Then, across the street, his eyes locked onto the tinted windows of our SUV.

Even from fifty yards away, I could see the exact moment realization hit him. He saw me sitting there in the dark, calm, collected, holding a fresh cup of tea. He lunged forward, shouting something unheard over the roar of the rain and sirens, before two federal agents slammed him against the side of the vehicle and pushed him inside.

The doors slammed shut. The convoy rolled away, sirens wailing into the wet Chicago night, taking the king of the underworld to a cell he would never escape.

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Dante let out a slow breath, turning to look at me. “Well. That’s one way to handle a messy divorce.”

“It’s not a divorce anymore,” I said, setting the tea cup down on the console. “It’s a liquidation.”

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