Chapter 2 - The Subterranean VeinThe voice echoing from the PA system belonged to a dead man—or at least, a man the world believed was dead.
"Julian Croft," Adrian growled, his voice vibrating with pure, unadulterated venom.
Julian Croft was the former Undersecretary of Defense who had built a criminal empire in the shadows of Washington and Chicago. He was the architect of the war that had destroyed my marriage to Adrian.
"Marco!" Adrian barked through the dark room. "Status on the extraction tunnel!"
"The basement service corridor leads directly into the old freight tunnels beneath the Chicago Loop," Marco reported quickly, keeping his weapon trained on the hallway. "Dr. Sloan, can she move?"
"She’s thirty-four weeks pregnant and carrying a live explosive inside her uterine wall!" Dr. Sloan practically shrieked, clutching her clipboard like a shield. "If her heart rate spikes above one hundred and eighty beats per minute, or if her blood pressure drops violently, the transponder's safety fuse could trigger!"
Adrian turned back to me. The darkness of the room was illuminated only by the harsh blue backlight of the ultrasound machine, casting long, dramatic shadows across his sharp jawline.
He re-holstered his weapon, stepped up to the side of the examination table, and gently cupped my face in his large, warm hands.
"Elena," he said softly, his voice cutting through the panic threatening to consume my mind. "Look at me. Only at me."
I met his dark, intense eyes.
"I spent the last eight months believing that pushing you away was the only way to keep you alive," Adrian whispered, his thumb tenderly wiping a tear from my cheek. "I was wrong. I let my enemies touch what is sacred to me. But I swear on my life, on my soul, and on our unborn daughter... no one hurts you today. Do you trust me?"
Despite the divorce papers, despite the months of silence and isolation in my tiny apartment, the truth burned brightly in my heart.
"I've always trusted you, Adrian," I whispered. "Just... save our baby."
"I'm going to save both of you," he promised.
Without waiting another second, Adrian scooped me up into his arms, lifting my heavy, thirty-four-week frame with effortless ease against his broad chest. He turned to Dr. Sloan. "Doctor, you're coming with us. If her vitals shift, I need a physician on site."
"I... I'm a private OB-GYN!" Dr. Sloan stammered.
"Now you're the Chief Medical Officer of the Moretti Organization," Adrian stated flatly, tossing a heavy tactical vest to Marco to hand to her. "Move!"
We burst into the hallway just as a flashbang grenade exploded in the main lobby down the hall, sending a blinding flash of white light and a concussive boom through the building.
Marco and two bodyguards laid down a brutal wall of suppressive fire into the lobby, stopping the advancing Syndicate mercenaries in their tracks.
Adrian sprinted down the rear service stairwell, holding me securely against his chest. Every step he took was calculated, smooth, and steady, ensuring that my body wasn't jarred or jostled as we descended three flights of stairs into the subterranean basement.
At the bottom of the stairs sat a heavy iron security door. Marco stepped forward, slapping a magnetic breaching charge against the lock.
BOOM.
The heavy iron door blew inward, revealing a long, damp, pitch-black brick tunnel stretching out into the subterranean darkness beneath Chicago—the historic, abandoned freight tunnel network built a century ago.
Waiting in the tunnel was a heavily modified, armored all-terrain transport vehicle with reinforced steel plating and blackout windows.
"In! Get in!" Marco yelled, checking his watch. "Croft’s five-minute deadline expires in ninety seconds!"
Adrian placed me gently into the leather back seat of the armored vehicle, sliding in right beside me. Dr. Sloan scrambled into the seat opposite us, her portable medical monitor already hooked up to my finger to track my heart rate.
"Heart rate is one hundred and forty," Dr. Sloan gasped, staring at the digital readout. "It's elevated, but stable. Keep her calm, Mr. Moretti!"
Adrian pulled me close, wrapping his heavy arm around my shoulders, tucking my head beneath his chin. His heat, his familiar scent of expensive leather and dark tobacco, enveloped me like an unbreakable shield.
"Drive, Marco," Adrian commanded quietly.
The heavy diesel engine roared to life, and the armored transport surged forward into the dark, wet subterranean veins of Chicago just as the PA system back in the clinic clicked one last time.
"Time's up, Adrian," Croft's voice echoed distantly from above.
A low, deep vibration shook the earth above us as a secondary charge detonated inside the clinic, collapsing the building's foundation. But inside our armored transport, moving sixty miles an hour beneath the pavement, the digital heartbeat monitor on my finger remained steady.
I buried my face in Adrian’s chest, feeling the heavy, rhythmic thud of his own heart beneath his shirt.
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"We made it out," I whispered.
"We're not out yet," Adrian replied, his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead as his hand rested protectively over our kicking daughter. "Now we find the man who put this in you... and I rip his empire to the ground."
