Chapter 19 - The Trap Under Chicago
Darkness swallowed us.
Gideon grabbed my arm.
“Down.”
I dropped behind a steel desk.
A gunshot cracked across the warehouse.
Glass exploded.
Gideon's men returned fire.
I covered my ears.
“Back exit!” someone shouted.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
Dim.
Enough to see shadows moving between server racks.
Gideon pulled me toward the wall.
“Your plans. Another exit?”
I forced myself to think.
The original building had been a printing plant.
Two loading docks.
Three personnel doors.
Basement utility tunnel.
“Basement.”
“Where?”
“Northwest corner.”
We moved.
Another shot hit a metal cabinet.
Sparks flew.
I ducked.
This was not how architects were supposed to spend Tuesdays.
We reached a stairwell.
The door was chained.
Gideon fired once at the lock.
“Subtle,” I muttered.
“Move.”
We descended.
Concrete basement.
Old pipes.
Water dripping.
My old plans showed a utility corridor beneath the alley.
But renovation work had changed everything.
A wall blocked the passage.
“Dead end,” one guard said.
“No.”
I touched the wall.
Drywall.
Not masonry.
“Fake.”
Gideon kicked through.
Behind it stretched a narrow tunnel.
We entered single file.
Fifty feet ahead, daylight appeared.
Then a voice echoed behind us.
“Harper.”
I stopped.
Gideon's hand tightened around my shoulder.
“Keep moving.”
The voice came again.
“Mason Hale.”
I turned.
He stood at the far end of the tunnel.
Gray suit.
Silver glasses.
Gun in his hand.
He looked exactly like the boring CFO who had complained about my marble budget.
Except now there was blood across his sleeve.
“You staged the blood in your car,” I said.
Mason smiled.
“Excellent.”
Gideon aimed.
Mason raised a small black device.
“Shoot and the warehouse burns.”
Gideon froze.
Mason glanced toward the ceiling.
“Servers, records, evidence. Everything.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“You.”
Gideon's answer was immediate.
“No.”
Mason laughed.
“Still protecting the girl.”
“She isn't leverage,” Gideon said.
“Oh, she absolutely is.”
He looked at me.
“Do you know what Lucian was before you?”
“I know who he is now.”
“You know the version he built for you.”
“I know enough.”
Mason's expression sharpened.
“You made him weak.”
“No.”
I stepped forward.
“Harper,” Gideon warned.
I ignored him.
“I made him happy.”
For the first time, Mason looked angry.
“Men like us don't get happiness.”
“That's your problem.”
His jaw tightened.
“Lucian inherited everything my father should have had.”
“So you stole $186 million?”
“I reclaimed it.”
“You framed Salvatore.”
“He deserved worse.”
“You framed Lucian.”
“He stole my name.”
I stared at him.
“No. Your father lost his place because of his own choices. Lucian's father still paid for your education. Gave you a career. Brought you inside.”
Mason's face twitched.
“He pitied me.”
“And that was enough reason to destroy his son?”
He pointed the gun at me.
Gideon shifted.
“Don't.”
Mason's breathing changed.
He wasn't calm anymore.
Good.
Angry people talk.
I had learned that from Kyle.
“You killed Lucian's parents,” I said.
Mason's eyes widened.
Tiny.
But enough.
Gideon saw it.
“No,” Mason said.
“You knew Daniel Mercer.”
“He knew everyone.”
“You created the fake ledger page.”
“No.”
“You broke into Bellini House.”
His smile returned.
“Careful.”
“You found Alessandro's archive before us.”
Silence.
I pushed.
“And you discovered something that scared you.”
His smile disappeared.
There.
“What?” I asked.
Mason raised the detonator.
“You should have stayed an interior decorator.”
Suddenly, police sirens screamed above us.
Mason looked toward the ceiling.
Gideon moved.
Two shots.
Mason's gun flew from his hand.
The detonator hit the concrete.
I lunged.
So did Mason.
My fingers reached it first.
He grabbed my coat.
I slammed my elbow backward.
Pain shot through my arm.
Gideon tackled him.
They crashed into the wall.
Within seconds, Mason was face down in the dirt with Gideon's knee between his shoulders.
Federal agents flooded the tunnel from the daylight entrance.
The lead agent looked at Gideon.
“Release him.”
Gideon stood.
Mason laughed from the floor.
“You think this changes anything?”
I held up the detonator.
“No.”
I looked toward the warehouse.
“But the servers might.”
His face finally changed.
Fear.
Because Mason Hale had spent months creating evidence against everyone else.
May you like
And he had forgotten one simple truth.
Evidence works both ways.
