Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
The next morning brought no relief, only a fresh wave of chaos.
At seven o’clock, Marcus burst into the study without knocking—a breach of protocol that immediately told me something catastrophic had happened.
“Boss,” Marcus panted, holding up his encrypted tablet. “We got a hit on the ballistic specs from the sniper casing last night. It wasn't an Eastern European syndicate.”
Victor, who had spent the entire night sitting in the leather armchair beside my sofa keeping watch, stood up immediately. “Who was it?”
“Dominic Vance,” Marcus said grimly.
The name hit the room like a physical blow. Dominic Vance was the head of the city’s largest federal drug enforcement task force—a man lauded in the Chicago Tribune as an incorruptible crusader against organized crime.
“Vance?” Victor’s voice dropped into a dangerous growl. “Vance is a federal prosecutor, not a cartel boss.”
“Not on paper,” Marcus corrected, tapping the tablet screen. “We hacked into Arthur Pendelton’s encrypted offshore accounts this morning. The millions Pendelton embezzled from your shell companies weren't spent on luxury cars or retirement funds. They were channeled directly into a secret slush fund controlled by Vance and his elite strike force. Vance has been running a multi-million-dollar extortion ring for five years, using your front companies to launder bribe money and framing whoever gets in his way.”
The pieces of the puzzle clicked together with terrifying clarity.
“That’s why Pendelton leaked my name to the feds,” I realized, standing up from the sofa. “It wasn't just to cover his embezzlement—it was part of Vance’s master plan. Vance needed a high-profile civilian scapegoat tied to the Rossi organization to secure a sweeping federal indictment that would seize all your assets and hand control of Chicago’s shipping lanes over to Vance’s corrupt network.”
“Brilliant,” Victor muttered, a dark, lethal smile touching his lips. “A federal prosecutor building his own criminal empire using badge numbers and grand jury indictments.”
“What do we do?” I asked. “If Vance has a federal warrant tied to my name, he can legally raid this house with a hundred federal agents by noon.”
“He won't raid us,” Victor said, grabbing his suit jacket and slipping it on. “Because a federal warrant requires probable cause, and Vance’s probable cause relies entirely on a fabricated paper trail created by Arthur Pendelton.”
“And where is Pendelton?” Marcus asked.
“Hiding out in Vance’s private safehouse down in the docks,” Victor replied coldly, pulling his automatic pistol from the desk drawer and checking the magazine. “Marcus, assemble the tactical teams. We’re going hunting.”
“Victor, no,” I grabbed his arm, panic surging through me. “If you go down to the docks with an armed squad, it’ll turn into a war zone. Vance is a federal official—if you kill him or get caught in a firefight, you’ll give him exactly what he wants!”
Victor looked down at me, covering my hand with his own. His eyes were fierce, unyielding, and completely calm.
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“I’ve spent ten years playing by the rules of a dirty world, Harper,” he said softly. “I let people think I was a monster because monsters don't get hurt. But I am not going to let a corrupt federal prosecutor destroy your life or my son’s home.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Stay inside the panic room with Finn. When I come back, this nightmare will be over.”
