Chapter 18 - The Midnight Stakeout
Midnight draped the Chicago harbor in impenetrable darkness, broken only by the amber glow of distant streetlights reflecting off the oily surface of the water. Parked two streets away from a private marina, a matte-black sedan sat idling silently. Inside, Damian and Elena watched the entrance to warehouse forty-two through high-powered night-vision binoculars.
According to the intelligence Marcus had scavenged from Judge Harrison’s private electronic logs, a clandestine meeting was scheduled for 1:00 AM between the judge’s chief of staff and an unknown courier representing the resurrected Moretti faction.
"The cold is setting in," Damian observed quietly, noticing Elena shiver despite the heavy cashmere coat she wore. Without a word, he unzipped his own jacket and draped it over her shoulders, wrapping her in his body heat and the faint, familiar scent of cedar and gunpowder.
"I'm fine, Damian," she murmured, though she leaned gratefully into his warmth. "I keep thinking about Sofia. When we left her sleeping in her room tonight, I felt... a familiar knot in my stomach. The fear that we might not make it back."
Damian turned his head, his gaze piercing through the dim light of the car to meet her eyes. He reached up, his gloved thumb gently tracing the line of her jawline. "Listen to me, Elena. I died once, on the floor of a burning room, before I met you. You brought me back to life. Nothing—not corrupt judges, not ghosts from the syndicate, not all the hell in Chicago—will ever take me away from you or our daughter. I swear it."
Before Elena could answer, the beam of headlights cut through the fog. A sleek, unmarked town car pulled up directly in front of warehouse forty-two. The passenger door opened, and a man in an expensive tailored suit stepped out, clutching a leather briefcase.
"Showtime," Damian whispered, his hand dropping to the heavy steel latch of the car door. "Stay here, Elena."
May you like
"Not a chance," Elena replied, racking the slide of her compact sidearm with a sharp, metallic click that echoed in the confined space of the vehicle. "We finish this together."
***
