Chapter 7 - SAFE HOUSE
Julian drove them deep into the backroads in a stolen sedan. Leo was safely strapped into a car seat in the back, sleeping through the adrenaline-fueled escape as if the world wasn't burning around him.
They arrived at an abandoned farmhouse miles outside of town. The property was heavily fortified, rigged with silent alarms and reinforced doors.
Inside, by the light of a single kerosene lamp, Julian finally told them the truth.
"I run the Chicago syndicate," he said, pacing the wooden floorboards. "Two weeks ago, my underboss, a man named Vance, staged a coup. He murdered my wife in our own home. He missed Leo by seconds. I took my son and ran."
Hannah felt a heavy, suffocating weight in her chest. She looked at the baby, peacefully dreaming on a blanket on the floor. "Why didn't you go to the police?"
"Vance owns the police," Julian scoffed bitterly. "He owns the judges. The only way this ends is if Vance is dead. But I couldn't go on the offensive while trying to protect Leo. Now, because of me, you're both targets."
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"So what's the plan, tough guy?" Rita asked, crossing her arms. "Because I left a very good pie in that oven, and I want my diner back."
Julian looked at the two women—a waitress and a cook who had just survived a mob hit without shedding a tear. A fierce, predatory smile touched his lips. "We set a trap."
