THE WAITRESS, THE MOB BOSS, AND THE 8:55 TRAP

The blood drained from my face so fast I felt dizzy.

Aunt Clara.

She was my mother's older sister. She had severe dementia and lived in a modest care facility I paid for with every extra tip I earned. I had kept her a secret from everyone.

"How do you know about her?" I whispered into the phone, my voice trembling.

"We've been watching you for a month, Evelyn," Celeste said cheerfully. "Ever since my father's men realized Thomas Carter’s brat was working at The Obsidian. We couldn't figure out why you were there. We thought Lorenzo hired you as a spy. But then we realized... you were just an idiot with bad luck."

"Leave her out of this," Lorenzo snarled.

"The watch, Lorenzo. Thomas hid the deposit box key inside the casing. I need it. One hour. Navy Pier. Come alone, Evelyn, or Aunt Clara burns."

The line went dead.

I sat frozen in the back seat, the hum of the tires against the wet asphalt the only sound in the car. Lorenzo slowly lowered the phone.

"She's lying," Marco said from the driver's seat, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. "It's a play to draw you out."

"She's not lying," I said, my voice hollow. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the heavy silver watch. My thumbs traced the edge of the back plate. "When I was fifteen, I dropped this. The back popped off. There's a tiny brass key taped inside."

Lorenzo's eyes widened. "The key to the lockbox. The ledger."

"I thought it was just a spare key to our old apartment," I whispered. I popped the back casing with my thumbnail. There, nestled beneath the ticking gears, was a small, flat brass key.

Lorenzo took it gently from my shaking fingers. "This is it. This is what proves they killed our fathers."

"She's going to kill my aunt," I said, panic finally breaking through. I grabbed the door handle. "Let me out. I have to go to her."

"Hey, look at me," Lorenzo said, catching my shoulders and pulling me back into the center of the seat. His dark eyes were intense, fierce, and entirely focused on me. "I am not letting you walk into a death trap. And I am not letting anyone touch your family. Not again."

"But—"

"Marco," Lorenzo barked. "Call Dante. Tell him to get a crew to the Cicero care facility right now. Lock it down. Shoot anyone who isn't wearing scrubs."

Marco hesitated. "Boss, if I pull Dante's crew, the safe house is unguarded. We'll be sitting ducks."

"Do it," Lorenzo ordered.

Marco tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pulled into a dark, rusted garage door in an alleyway in Pilsen. The door rattled shut behind us, plunging us into total darkness before the harsh fluorescent garage lights flickered on.

We hurried upstairs into a sparse, dusty apartment. Lorenzo immediately went to a hidden floorboard, pulling out two heavy rifles and throwing a tactical vest onto the couch.

"We wait here until Dante calls to confirm your aunt is secure," Lorenzo told me, handing me a glass of tap water. "Then, we go to the bank. We get the ledger. We end the Vanes tonight."

I took the glass, my fingers brushing his. "Why are you doing this for me?" I asked softly. "You could have thrown me out of the car. Kept the key."

Lorenzo stopped. He looked at me, a softness in his hardened face that made my breath catch. "Because for twelve years, I thought I was alone in this. I'm not."

The moment hung between us, thick and heavy.

Then, the heavy deadbolt on the apartment door clicked open.

Lorenzo spun around, raising his rifle.

Standing in the doorway was Marco. His gun was drawn. But it wasn't pointed at the hallway.