Plot

Chapter 8 - The Price of Blood

""Ethan, don't!"" Ava sobbed, gripping Ethan’s arm as he moved toward the staircase. ""It’s a trap! He’ll kill you the second you walk outside!""

Ethan looked down at Ava. The cold, merciless mafia boss was gone. In his place was a father whose entire universe was dangling by a thread. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small satellite tracking device and a master keycard to the estate’s underground armory.

""Ava, listen to me,"" Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly calm. ""The mercenaries Marco hired are professionals, but Marco is reckless. In the basement tunnel beneath the wine cellar, there is a snowmobile and an assault rifle. If I walk down there, Marco will take Sophie and me to their compound at the old rail yards. That tracker connects directly to my lieutenant, Marcus.""

""You can't let them take you!""

""He has my daughter,"" Ethan whispered, pulling Ava into a brief, crushing kiss. ""I will die ten thousand times before I let them hurt her. If I don't come back... the trust fund is yours. Live a long life, Ava. Live for me.""

Before she could scream, Ethan pushed her back into the secret hallway leading to the armory and sealed the biometric door behind him.

Minutes later, Ethan walked out into the courtyard, his hands raised in the air, his pistol discarded in the snow. Marco Moretti stepped forward, a sickening grin on his face, and slammed the butt of a shotgun directly across Ethan’s jaw. Ethan hit the icy gravel, spitting blood, but his eyes never left Sophie.

""Daddy! Daddy, please!"" Sophie wailed, fighting against the mercenary holding her.

""Shut up, brat!"" Marco barked, zip-tying Ethan’s wrists behind his back with reinforced plastic. Marco hauled Ethan to his feet, shoving him toward an armored van. ""Pack them up! Tonight, Chicago gets a new king, and Ethan Whitaker watches everything he loves burn.""

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As the convoy of black SUVs sped away into the blinding blizzard, a shadow moved near the estate’s side garage. Ava stood in the freezing wind, dressed in heavy winter gear, holding the satellite tracker in one hand and racking the slide of an MP5 submachine gun with the other.

She had spent her whole life fighting death. She wasn't about to let it take her family now.

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