Chapter 4 - The Grandview Breach
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour by the time our three unmarked SUVs slid into the subterranean parking garage of the Grandview Hotel. The concrete cavern was damp, echoing with the sound of dripping water and the low, heavy idle of high-performance engines.
Dominic sat in the back of the lead vehicle, checking the magazine of a matte-black sidearm with methodical precision. Across from him, I adjusted the secure earpiece Marcus had fitted me with, my hands remarkably steady despite the adrenaline roaring in my ears.
“Remember,” Dominic said, his eyes lifting to meet mine one last time before the doors opened. “You stay behind Marcus and the extraction team until we secure the primary suite. If things go sideways, the secondary elevator takes you straight down to the alley where the backup unit is waiting.”
“I’m not hiding in an elevator, Dominic,” I replied, pulling the collar of my dark trench coat up against the chill. “Gemma is my best friend. I’m walking through that door with you.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t argue. He knew stubbornness when he saw it—mostly because he possessed more of it than anyone else in Chicago.
The freight elevator chimed softly as we reached the penthouse level.
Instead of waiting for the formal entrance, Marcus and two syndicate operatives bypassed the security panel with a portable override device. The heavy steel doors slid open silently, revealing a sprawling, dimly lit penthouse suite furnished in ultra-modern black glass, white leather, and floor-to-ceiling windows streaming with rain.
At the center of the living area, tied to a designer leather chair, sat Gemma.
Her hair was messy, her clothes damp and wrinkled, and a small bruise darkened her left cheekbone. But as the elevator doors opened, her head snapped up, and her eyes widened in shock.
“Evelyn?!” she gasped, straining against the heavy plastic zip-ties binding her wrists. “Are you out of your mind?! What are you doing here?!”
Before I could answer, a heavy set of double doors on the far side of the penthouse swung open.
Vincent Vance stepped out into the room, flanked by four armed enforcers holding silenced pistols. He was a tall, silver-haired man with cold, predatory eyes and a thin, cruel smile that didn't reach his mouth.
“Well, well,” Vincent drawled, spreading his arms wide as if welcoming old friends to a dinner party. “The great and powerful Dominic Russo... and he brought a civilian toy along for the ride. How touching.”
Dominic didn’t flinch. He stepped out of the elevator first, his own weapon rising with effortless, terrifying precision. Behind him, Marcus and the extraction team fanned out into the room in a fraction of a second, their weapons locked onto the Vance guards.
“Let her go, Vincent,” Dominic said. His voice wasn't raised, but the sheer, glacial authority in his tone made the temperature in the room plummet ten degrees.
Vincent chuckled, stepping closer to Gemma and resting a heavy hand on the back of her chair. Gemma flinched, biting her lip to keep from crying out.
“You think you can just waltz into my hotel and dictate terms, Dominic?” Vincent sneered, his grip tightening on the chair. “Your sister stumbled into information she shouldn't have seen. She thought she was being clever, playing detective with her little pharmacy friend’s database access. If I let her go, my entire operation goes up in smoke.”
“Your operation is already dead,” Dominic replied coldly. “Every server in your Wabash warehouse was mirrored and uploaded to federal prosecutors twenty minutes ago. You have no leverage, Vincent. You have a choice: you can walk out of that side door right now and let us take my sister, or I can paint this white leather floor with your blood.”
Vincent’s smile faltered. He looked around the room, realizing too late that his men were hopelessly outmatched, outnumbered, and completely boxed in by the Russo syndicate's elite enforcers.
“Do it,” I whispered under my breath.
With blinding speed, Dominic fired a single, calculated shot that shattered the crystal chandelier directly above Vincent’s head, raining glass shards across the room. At the same time, Marcus and the extraction team moved in with terrifying efficiency, disarming the Vance guards before they could even squeeze their triggers.
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Dominic closed the distance between himself and Vincent in three long strides, grabbing the syndicate boss by the lapels of his suit and slamming him against the concrete pillar with enough force to rattle the windows.
“Touch her again,” Dominic whispered, his face inches from Vincent’s, “and I won't wait for the federal prosecutors.”
