Chapter 7 - A Target on the Run
The sound of an alarm chime rang through the subterranean room, displaying multiple red alerts across the digital security monitors.
Marco pulled out a heavy handgun, racking the slide with a clean, terrifying mechanical snap.
"Boss, Vance's men have tracked the ambulance decoy we sent to O'Hare," Marco reported urgently.
"They’ve concentrated three tactical teams outside the outer river gate."
"How did they find this estate?" Dante demanded, swinging his bare legs over the edge of the examination bed despite my sharp protest.
"Mr. Russo, your fascia has barely knit together!" I yelled, reaching out to push his shoulder back down.
Dante caught both my wrists in one large hand, pulling me close until his dark eyes were inches from mine.
"If I stay in this bed, Emma, we both die in this room."
"There is a mole inside our logistics division who sold our private GPS coordinates," Dante said, turning to Marco.
"Lock down sector four and bring Miss Shaw to the lakefront dock immediately."
We navigated a labyrinth of underground corridors carved through the limestone foundation of the estate.
Above our heads, the distant rumble of explosions and automatic gunfire shook dust down from the ceiling rafters.
Two of Dante's guards fell behind us to set defensive charges at the tunnel bulkheads, sealing the path behind our heels.
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We emerged onto a secluded concrete dock tucked beneath a natural rock overhang on Lake Michigan.
A high-speed interceptor boat was idling in the dark water, its twin turbine engines humming with low, suppressed power.
