Chapter 2 - THE VEIN COLLAPSES

Gabriel's phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it on the first ring, putting it on speaker so Clara could hear.

"Silas," Gabriel breathed.

"I have the boy," a raspy, strained voice echoed from the speaker. The sound of a car engine roared in the background. "He's stable. Portable ventilator is running on battery. We have about three hours of charge."

Clara practically threw herself at the phone. "Silas? Is Leo okay? Is he hurt?"

"He's unharmed, miss," Silas replied. Clara could hear the tight grimace of pain in his voice. "He slept through the whole thing. Good kid."

"Where are you?" Gabriel asked, his eyes scanning the empty hospital corridor. "I saw the blood at the facility."

"Took a grazing shot to the shoulder getting out of the stairwell," Silas coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "Victor's men are dead. But Gabe... they knew exactly where to go. They didn't just stumble on this place. They had the boy's exact room number. They had the facility's security codes to bypass the locked doors on the fourth floor."

Clara froze. "That's impossible. Only the staff has those codes."

"And the local precinct," Gabriel said slowly, the realization dawning on him. "For emergency wellness checks."

"Exactly," Silas rasped. "Victor didn't just send mercenaries. He has someone inside the Oak Park police department pulling the strings. Someone who cleared the way for the hitmen tonight. I’m heading to the old shipping yard on the south side. Warehouse 4. It’s off the grid. Meet me there."

The line went dead.

Gabriel looked at Clara. "We have to move."

They slipped out the back of the facility, blending into the chaos of the fire trucks arriving. Once back in Clara’s car, she drove toward the south side, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. The reality of the situation was crushing her. Victor Thorne wasn't just a mobster; he owned the people supposed to protect the city.

The shipping yard was a desolate wasteland of rusted containers and cracked asphalt, situated right on the edge of the freezing lake. Warehouse 4 was a massive, corrugated metal structure, dark and silent.

Clara pulled the car inside the open bay doors, cutting the headlights.

In the center of the warehouse, an old black SUV was parked. Silas was leaning against the hood, clutching a blood-soaked rag to his right shoulder. He was an older man, his hair entirely silver, his face weathered like ancient leather.

But Clara didn't look at him. She ran to the back of the SUV. The trunk was open, and there, lying on a makeshift bed of blankets, was Leo. The portable ventilator hummed steadily, pushing air into his lungs. He looked peaceful, completely oblivious to the war raging around him.

Clara fell over him, kissing his forehead, tears streaming down her face. "I'm here, buddy. I'm right here."

Gabriel walked over to Silas, inspecting the wound. "It’s deep. You’re losing too much blood."

"I've had worse," Silas grunted, pulling his coat tighter. He looked at Clara. "You raised a strong boy, Clara. He's a fighter."

Clara turned around, wiping her eyes. "Thank you. For saving him. I... I don't even know how to repay you."

"You already did, by keeping Gabriel alive," Silas said. He reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He handed it to Gabriel. "I pulled this off the body of the hitman at the care facility."

Gabriel unfolded the paper. Clara stepped closer to look.

It was a printed dispatch sheet from the Chicago Police Department. It had Clara's name, her address, her car's license plate, and Leo's exact location at the care center.

But it was the signature at the bottom of the authorization line that made the blood drain from Clara's face.

Authorized by: Detective Marcus Vance.

Clara stumbled backward, hitting the side of the SUV. "No... no, that can't be right."

Gabriel looked at her sharply. "You know this name?"

"He's..." Clara’s voice trembled. "He's my ex-husband. We divorced three years ago. He's a narcotics detective for the CPD."

Gabriel’s expression turned lethal. "Your ex-husband sold you out to Victor Thorne."

"Marcus wouldn't do that," Clara shook her head wildly. "We had our problems, but he wouldn't put a hit on me. He wouldn't put Leo in danger! He loved Leo!"

"People change when Victor Thorne waves a million dollars in their face," Silas said grimly.

Suddenly, the heavy metal doors of the warehouse violently slammed shut.

The three of them spun around.

The screech of tires echoed outside. Red and blue police lights began flashing fiercely through the dirty frosted windows of the warehouse. Sirens wailed, surrounding the building from all sides.

Gabriel pulled his Glock. Silas drew a heavy revolver with his left hand.

"They tracked your car," Gabriel said, stepping in front of Clara and Leo.