Chapter 6 - THE COUNTERATTACK
She flew down the concrete stairs, her lungs burning, her tailored heels snapping off on the third landing, forcing her to kick them off entirely and run barefoot down the industrial steps. She could hear heavy boots pounding behind her, closing the distance.
Thirteen floors down.
By the time she burst through the ground-floor exit into the underground parking garage, her vision was swimming with adrenaline. She headed straight for the exit ramp, but twin headlights flared blindingly in front of her. A black sedan screeched to a halt, blocking her path. The passenger door flew open, and a heavy hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her into the backseat before she could scream.
Norah fought like a trapped animal, kicking, scratching, sinking her teeth deep into the flesh of her captor's hand.
"Easy, Norah. It's just me."
A familiar, gravelly voice cut through the dark. She blinked hard, her eyes adjusting to the interior light. It was Leo, the sweating accountant, looking terrified out of his mind, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding hand where she had bitten him.
"Leo?" she gasped, pulling away. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Saving your life," Leo hissed, pressing the gas pedal as the sedan roared forward toward the garage exit. "Moretti’s men have compromised the building. Roman knew they were coming for the ledgers, but he didn't think they'd target you directly."
"Where is Roman?" Norah demanded, wiping sweat and dirt from her forehead.
"Where he always is when someone touches his property," Leo repliedgrimly, navigating the winding exit ramp into the rain-slicked Chicago streets. "Preparing a funeral."
Within twenty minutes, the sedan pulled up to an abandoned industrial shipyard along the Chicago River—one of Moretti’s primary narcotics and contraband transfer hubs. But tonight, it wasn't a transfer hub. It was a war zone.
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Roman’s security detail had completely surrounded the property. Gunfire cracked sharply against the roar of the river, muzzle flashes painting the dark concrete in violent bursts of light. Roman stood near the front lines, calmly leaning against the hood of a bullet-riddled SUV, wearing a heavy wool overcoat, watching his men systematically dismantle Moretti’s perimeter.
As Leo’s car pulled up, Roman turned. His gaze locked onto Norah as she stepped out of the vehicle, barefoot, her pantsuit torn and stained with soot.
