Chapter 2 - Whispers in the Shadows
Dr. Sterling worked with the silent precision of an underground physician who had stitched up bullet wounds for Chicago’s elite underworld for two decades. Local anesthetic dulled the throbbing agony in Audrey’s broken finger, and an antiseptic gel cooled the raw, blistered brand on her hand. Throughout the entire forty minutes, Victor never left the room, his eyes fixed on Audrey’s pale face while his mind calculated every piece of his empire.
Tommy Callahan had spent eleven years handling the family’s western shipping docks. If he was allied with Liam Gallagher, it meant the entire northern perimeter was compromised. Tommy knew every warehouse, every safe house, every off-book bank account, and every dirty judge on Victor’s payroll. He had handed Gallagher the master key to the Russo syndicate.
Once the doctor finished wrapping Audrey’s hand in clean, sterile gauze and administered a mild sedative, Victor escorted him to the foyer.
“She has two fractured phalanges and second-degree thermal burns,” Sterling muttered under his breath, carefully packing his instruments. “She needs complete bed rest and antibiotics, Victor. If she undergoes any more severe shock, her heart won't take it.”
“She stays in this penthouse. You stay in the guest suite down the hall,” Victor commanded without looking at him. “You don't leave until I say Chicago is clean.”
Returning to the living room, Victor found Audrey leaning back against the velvet cushions, her eyes heavy from the medication. He bent down, carefully lifting her by her shoulders and knees. She stiffened for a fraction of a second before melting against his broad chest, her head resting beneath his jaw. He carried her into the master bedroom, laying her down onto the silk sheets she had picked out two months ago for their honeymoon suite.
“Victor,” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering shut against the warm lamplight. “Don’t go alone. Tommy knows how you fight.”
“Tommy knows how I used to fight when I had nothing to lose,” Victor replied softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Sleep, Audrey. When you wake up, Claire will be sitting by your bed.”
Stepping out into his study, Victor locked the bedroom door behind him and keyed in an encrypted frequency on a satellite phone hidden behind the mahogany wainscoting. The line clicked twice before connecting to Marco, his veteran enforcer and the only man whose loyalty predated Tommy’s rise.
“Boss?” Marco answered, background engine noise crackling through the receiver.
“Where is Tommy right now?”
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“He’s at the Navy Pier distribution center, overseeing the midnight cargo transfer. He told the crew you authorized an early release of the Irish containers.”
Victor’s mouth curved into a terrifying, humorless smirk. “Assemble the Old Guard. No radios. No digital chatter. Bring the heavy iron. We are going to attend my best man’s promotion.”
