Chapter 6 - Tracking the Vanished
The iron doors shrieked open, revealing a cavernous, cavernous interior reeking of mildew, diesel fuel, and dried blood. Rotting wooden pallets were stacked in decaying piles against the damp concrete walls, and overhead, rain dripped steadily through the broken corrugated roof.
In the center of the concrete floor, tied to a rusted metal chair under a single hanging lightbulb, sat Claire.
My breath caught in my throat.
She looked emaciated, her pale blue sweater torn at the shoulder, her brown hair matted with dried mud. Bruises darkened her left cheekbone, and her head hung low against her chest in utter exhaustion. But as the iron doors slammed shut behind me, she slowly lifted her head.
When our eyes met across the dim expanse, five years of distance, guilt, and regret collapsed into dust.
""Michael..."" she whispered, her cracked lips barely forming the syllables. Tears instantly cut clean tracks through the grime on her pale face. ""No... why did you come? You should have stayed away...""
""Shut up, Bennett!"" Dominic Moretti snapped, stepping out from the shadows near a rusted boiler.
Dominic looked ten years older than when I had last seen him in Chicago. His tailored suit was wrinkled and stained around the cuffs, his gray hair wildly uncompted, his bloodshot eyes frantic with the manic energy of a cornered animal. In his right hand, he held a heavy snub-nosed revolver, resting the barrel casually against Claire's temple.
""Look at this touching family reunion,"" Dominic chuckled, though his voice wavered with nervous exhaustion. ""Five years, Rivers. Five years I lived in the shadow of your empire while you turned my territory into your personal piggy bank.""
""You were obsolete, Dominic,"" I said, keeping my hands visible at my sides, my eyes never leaving Claire’s bruised face. ""You ran your rackets like a drunken street thug. You lost because you were weak.""
""I wasn't too weak to find your woman!"" Dominic snarled, pressing the gun harder against Claire’s skull. Claire flinched, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out. ""I wasn't too weak to track her across five states while you sat in your marble tower drinking scotch! Where is the girl, Michael? Where is my insurance policy?""
""Emma is safe,"" I replied calmly. ""She's somewhere you will never reach.""
Dominic’s eyes widened with manic fury. ""You lied to me! You brought the paperwork, but you left the brat behind!""
""You don't need a child, Dominic,"" I said, taking half a step forward. ""You need money. You need an escape route. The deeds Vance is holding surrender fifty million dollars in harbor infrastructure and full access to my cargo freighters. Take the deeds, take your men, and get on a ship to Venezuela. Leave Claire, and this ends tonight.""
Vance flipped through the contracts under the halogen lamp, nodding toward Dominic. ""The signatures are notarized, Boss. The state seals are on the back. It’s legit.""
For a second, greed flickered across Dominic’s gaunt face. He looked at the paperwork, then at me, weighing the promise of fifty million against the burning desire for vengeance that had consumed his mind for five long years.
""It’s a generous offer, Michael,"" Dominic whispered, a sinister grin spreading across his face. ""It really is. But there’s one small detail you overlooked.""
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""What's that, Dominic?""
Dominic cocked the hammer of his revolver with a loud, ominous click. ""I don't just want your money. I want you to feel what it's like to watch everything you love bleed out on a dirty floor.""
