Chapter 3 - The Blood Trail
The subterranean tunnels beneath the Lake Michigan estate were a labyrinth of damp brickwork, rusted iron pipes, and thick shadows. The cold air smelled of moss, wet earth, and motor oil.
Declan led the way, his pistol held high, moving with a fluid, lethal efficiency that proved the rumors about his past were far from exaggerated. Yet every few steps, he paused to look back, ensuring Mason and Sophie were keeping pace.
Suddenly, Mason stumbled, letting out a sharp gasp of pain. He collapsed against the damp brick wall, clutching his right thigh.
"Mason!" I cried, dropping to my knees beside him.
When I pulled my hand away from his leg, it was covered in warm, dark blood. A stray bullet fragment from the dining room clash had grazed his upper thigh, tearing deep into the meat of his leg.
"Mom... it burns," Mason whimpered, tears finally spilling over his dirt-streaked cheeks.
Declan was beside us in an instant. Holstering his gun, he pulled a clean silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it firmly against Mason's wound. Mason winced, biting his lip to keep from screaming.
"You're a tough kid, Mason," Declan murmured softly, his fierce blue eyes locking onto my son's eyes with an intense, calming warmth. "Look at me. Don't look at the blood. Look at my eyes."
Mason nodded, his chin trembling. "Are... are you the king of the South Side?"
A rare, quiet chuckle escaped Declan's chest, though his eyes remained focused. "People say foolish things, kid. Right now, I'm just a guy who needs to get you to a doctor. Can you hold this cloth as hard as you can?"
"Yeah," Mason whispered, pressing his young fingers over Declan's hands.
Declan immediately unbuckled his heavy leather belt and wrapped it tightly around Mason's thigh above the cut, creating a temporary tourniquet. "This will keep you safe until we get to the truck."
"He's losing too much blood," I whispered, panic clawing at my throat.
"He's going to make it, Elena," Declan promised, his voice carrying an absolute, unshakeable authority that made me believe him despite the nightmare surrounding us. "I give you my word as a Rinaldi."
Flashlights flickered at the top of the stone tunnel behind us. Shouted orders echoed along the brick passageway.
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"They're down here! Spread out!"
Declan pulled Mason into his arms, lifting the eight-year-old effortlessly against his chest despite his own bleeding shoulder. He looked at me, taking my shaking hand in his free grip. "Run."
