Chapter 8 - Tên Chapter 8 - The Warehouse on Lower Wacker
Before our lips could meet, Lorenzo’s private burner phone buzzed violently against the wooden floorboards.
He cursed softly in Italian, pulling back with obvious reluctance, and answered the call. ""What is it, Mateo?""
I watched his expression shift in a fraction of a second. The warmth vanished. His jaw locked, and his amber eyes turned cold as Arctic ice.
""Where?"" Lorenzo barked. ""...When? How many men did he bring?""
He stood up abruptly, buttoning his jacket. ""Keep them pinned down. Don't let him burn the records. I'm on my way.""
He hung up, turning toward me with urgent intensity. ""Vance’s private security team didn't retreat. They broke into my primary distribution hub on Lower Wacker Drive. They are trying to torch the servers containing the original digital ledgers.""
""If they burn the primary servers,"" I gasped, leaping to my feet despite the pain in my arches, ""the physical copies won't hold up in federal court without digital validation! His lawyers will claim we fabricated the papers!""
""I have to go,"" Lorenzo said, pulling a snub-nosed revolver from an ankle holster and checking the cylinder. ""Mateo has four men inside, but Vance hired twenty mercenaries. Stay here, Rosie. Lock yourself in the manager's office. You’re safe in The Drake.""
""No,"" I said, grabbing my flats and slipping them on.
Lorenzo stopped, glaring at me. ""This isn't a banquet, Rosie. Bullets don't respect fiery speeches or Sicilian insults.""
""You don't know where the backup mirror is kept, do you?"" I challenged, stepping right into his face. ""My grandmother worked with the original developer of that warehouse in the eighties. The Lower Wacker building doesn't just have one server room. It has an underground cold-storage vault built into the old Chicago tunnel network. The real backup isn't in the main office; it’s sixty feet beneath the river level.""
Lorenzo stared at me in utter disbelief. ""How the hell do you know that?""
""Because Nonna kept the original architectural blueprints in her cedar hope chest!"" I yelled, grabbing my coat. ""You go in there with guns, they’ll set fire to the top floor, and your digital proof is gone forever! You need me to bypass the pneumatic lock on the tunnel door, or you lose everything!""
Lorenzo looked at me for three long seconds, a mixture of fury, admiration, and wild disbelief flashing across his scarred features. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it with fierce intensity.
""If a single hair on your head gets touched tonight, I will burn this entire city to the ground,"" he vowed gravelly. ""Let's go.""
We sprinted through the loading dock and climbed into the armored Escalade. The driver hit the gas, tires screaming against the asphalt as we tore out onto Michigan Avenue, racing toward the subterranean darkness of Lower Wacker Drive.
The underbelly of Chicago was freezing, filled with exhaust fumes and flickering yellow sodium lights. As we swerved into the loading bay of the massive brick warehouse, the sharp, rhythmic crack of gunfire shattered the night air.
Smoke was already billowing from the third-story windows.
""They torched the executive suites!"" the driver yelled, slamming on the brakes.
""Mateo!"" Lorenzo barked into his tactical radio as we climbed out into the freezing wind.
""Boss! We’re pushed back to the loading ramps!"" Mateo’s voice crackled amidst heavy gunfire. ""They brought thermite grenades! The office servers are melting!""
""Cover the girl!"" Lorenzo ordered, drawing a heavy semi-automatic handgun and pulling me behind the concrete reinforced pillar of the bay doors.
Bullets pinged violently against the steel frame of the warehouse. Glass showered down from above like deadly hail. My heart was in my throat, my ears ringing with deafening bangs, but I kept my focus locked on the rusty iron bulkhead door half-hidden behind two industrial dumpsters.
May you like
""There!"" I pointed, shouting over the roar of battle. ""The boiler access door! The tunnel intake is right behind the furnace room!""
""Move!"" Lorenzo shielded my entire body with his broad frame, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as we sprinted across the open tarmac under a hail of ricocheting bullets.
