Chapter 8 - THE CHASE
Luca stood frozen, his boot covering the small golden key. His eyes darted from his crying daughter to me, then to Eleanor. "What is in the box, Grace?" Luca asked, his voice tight, stripping away the calm facade. "What did your mother put in the box?" Grace shook her head, terrified. "I don't know. She just said it was a letter. A letter that would keep me safe forever." Luca’s mind was racing. Catherine hadn't just relied on a flash drive and Thomas's hacking logs. She was too smart for that. She had a dead man's switch. A physical copy of everything—perhaps undeniable evidence of Luca's direct involvement in the syndicate’s murders, safely locked away in a bank vault, waiting to be found. "Give me the key, Grace," Luca demanded, moving his boot and reaching down. But before his fingers could touch the gold metal, Eleanor moved. The seventy-four-year-old woman, fueled by a mother's rage and a grandmother's desperation, swung her heavy leather purse with all her remaining strength. The brass buckle caught Luca squarely across the temple. Luca grunted, staggering sideways and dropping his gun. "Run, Emily!" Eleanor screamed, diving to the floor to snatch the key. She shoved it into my hand. "Take Grace and run!" I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Grace’s hand and sprinted toward the massive front doors. Thomas was right behind me, pushing the heavy mahogany open into the stormy Chicago night. Rain lashed against our faces as we bolted down the sweeping driveway. Behind us, I heard Luca roaring in anger. "Stop them!" Luca shouted to his remaining enforcers stationed near the gate. Two massive men in dark suits stepped out of the shadows, blocking the iron wrought gates that led to the street. We were trapped. Thomas stepped in front of me, raising his fists in a desperate, futile attempt to protect us. "Emily, get back into the bushes. I'll try to hold them." "Tommy, they'll kill you," I panicked, looking around for any avenue of escape. Suddenly, a blinding pair of headlights swept across the driveway. A black town car came tearing up the gravel path from the garage area. It swerved violently, sending gravel flying, and slammed sideways into one of the stone pillars near the gate, blocking the enforcers' path. The driver's side door kicked open. It was Vanessa. Her face was bruised, her red silk gown soaked in rain and mud. She had managed to slip her zip-ties in the garage and hot-wire one of the fleet cars. "Get in!" Vanessa screamed, her eyes wide with pure survival instinct. I hesitated for a fraction of a second. This was the woman who had helped kill Catherine. "Emily, she’s our only way out!" Thomas yelled, grabbing the rear door handle. I hoisted Grace into the backseat, shoved Eleanor in beside her, and dove in as Thomas slammed the door shut. Vanessa threw the car into reverse, spinning the tires against the wet pavement, and smashed through the secondary service gate, tearing out onto the slick city streets. We sped through the dark roads of Chicago, the rain pounding against the windshield like gunfire. "Why are you helping us?" Eleanor demanded from the backseat, clutching Grace tightly. Vanessa gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. "Because I heard him, Eleanor! I heard Luca admit he let Catherine die. He set Marcus and me up to take the fall for everything. If I stay, I go to prison forever, or he puts a bullet in my head." "He'll hunt us down," Thomas said, looking out the rear window. "He has eyes all over the city." "Not if we get to the bank first," I said, catching my breath. I looked down at the golden key in my hand. There was a serial number and a small engraving: First Central Union. "First Central is downtown," Vanessa said, checking the rearview mirror frantically. "It's an automated vault system. Twenty-four hours. We can get in with just the key." "Drive," I commanded. For twenty minutes, the only sounds in the car were the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers and Grace's soft crying. I reached over the seat and held her small hand, trying to offer a comfort I didn't feel. Vanessa skidded the car to a halt in an alley directly behind the towering glass structure of First Central Union Bank. "I can't go in," Vanessa said, keeping the car running. "There are cameras. If Luca's guys check the feeds, they'll spot me immediately." "I'll go," I said, gripping the key. "I'm going with you," Thomas insisted. "No, stay with them," I told my brother. "If anything happens to me, you have to protect Grace and Eleanor." I stepped out into the rain and ran to the bank's rear automated entry. The glass doors slid open, granting me access to a sterile, brightly lit vestibule lined with steel deposit boxes. I matched the number on the key to a box halfway down the wall. Box 408. My hands shook as I inserted the key. It turned with a heavy click. I pulled the long metal drawer out. Inside lay a single, thick, sealed manila envelope. As I picked it up, a reflection in the polished steel wall caught my eye. The glass doors of the vestibule had slid open behind me. Standing in the doorway, soaked from the rain and holding a suppressed pistol, was Luca Moretti. "Hand it over, Emily," Luca said, stepping inside and letting the glass doors slide shut behind him, locking us in.
