Chapter 4 - The Chicago Connection
The name Marcus Vance echoed in my head like a death knell.
Julian’s estranged brother, Marcus, was a sociopath who had built an empire in the Midwest on human trafficking and arms dealing. Years ago, Marcus had tried to absorbed my territory, leading to the bloody war that took Elena from me.
Now, the pieces were falling into place with terrifying clarity.
Julian hadn't just hidden Maya from me; he was hiding her from Marcus. Marcus knew that if he controlled Elena’s child—my child—he controlled the ultimate bargaining chip against the Vane empire.
"Is the house secure?" I asked Viktor, my tone shifting into the cold, calculated register of a general preparing for war.
"Fully locked down, Boss. Perimeter sensors are active, thermal cameras are up, and twenty more men are en route from the downtown docks."
"Good," I said. "Bring Marcus's local contacts to the basement. I want names, I want safehouses, and I want them in the next thirty minutes."
"Understood." Viktor turned to leave, then paused. "And the girl?"
"She stays here. With me."
I turned back to Maya. She was watching me, her tiny hands wrapped in the sleeves of the oversized sweater. Bear had lifted his head, his dark eyes tracking my every movement.
"You're my daddy, aren't you?" she asked softly.
The question hit me harder than any bullet ever had. I had commanded armies of criminals, controlled city officials, and dictated the lives of thousands, yet I felt entirely paralyzed by an eight-year-old girl.
I crouched beside her couch, bringing myself down to her eye level. "I am," I said, my voice rough. "I didn't know about you, Maya. If I had known..."
"Daddy—Julian—said you would be angry," she said. "He said you were a man made of ice. But he said the ice would melt if I gave you the locket."
"He was right," I murmured, reaching out with a hand covered in black ink tattoos—tattoos representing every soul I had sent to the grave—and gently tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Your father... Julian... he was a better man than I ever gave him credit for."
"Is he dead?" she asked, a single tear finally slipping past her eyelashes.
I looked at her candidly. "If Marcus found him... yes, Maya. I believe he is. But I promise you this: the men who did this will never touch you again."
She didn't cry out. She just leaned forward and buried her face into the collar of my shirt. I froze for a fraction of a second—unused to warmth, unused to affection—before wrapping my arms around her small, fragile frame. Bear let out a soft bark and rested his heavy head on my knee.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with one hand, keeping Maya secured against my chest.
It was a text from an unknown, encrypted number.
I have what’s left of my brother’s body, Victor, the message read. And I know you have the girl. Hand her over by midnight at the old railyard, or I bring Chicago down on your city.
Attached was a photo of Julian’s battered, lifeless body lying on a concrete floor.
May you like
A cold, white rage burned through my veins, consuming every trace of fear. Marcus Vance had made the ultimate mistake. He thought he was dealing with the man I used to be—a man with something to lose.
He didn't realize that for the first time in twelve years, I finally had something worth burning the world for.
