Chapter 4 - The Hunter Becomes the Hunted
The heavy Escalade roared behind them, its steel-reinforced bull-bar closing the gap within seconds. Clara gripped her armrests, her small knuckles turning white, but she didn't utter a single scream; she kept her eyes fixed on Roman’s calm, resolute profile. Roman drove with cold, calculating precision, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the rain-drenched obstacles of the industrial corridor.
""Brace yourself, Clara,"" Roman instructed calmly.
The Escalade slammed into their rear bumper. The impact sent a violent shudder through the station wagon, the tires briefly losing traction on the rain-slick cobblestones before Roman skillfully corrected the slide. Behind the wheel of the pursuit vehicle sat Viktor Vance, Salvatore’s chief enforcer—a ruthless sociopath known for leaving no survivors.
Roman knew the station wagon couldn't outrun the high-powered SUV on an open stretch. He needed to eliminate the advantage of raw horsepower. Ahead lay the abandoned rail switching yard near 31st Street—a labyrinth of rusted shipping containers, dead-end rail spurs, and low-hanging steel trestles.
Roman yanked the handbrake, sending the station wagon into a controlled 180-degree spin into a narrow alley between two towering stacks of decommissioned cargo containers. Viktor’s Escalade roared in right behind them, its high beams blindingly bright.
Roman slammed the car into reverse, deliberately backing up toward a low-clearance steel loading ramp. Viktor, thinking Roman was trapped, surged forward to crush the smaller vehicle against the concrete bulkhead.
At the exact split second before impact, Roman slammed on the brakes, kicked his door open, drew his secondary weapon—a high-caliber magnum revolver—and fired three consecutive rounds straight through the windshield of the oncoming SUV. The heavy lead slugs shattered the reinforced glass, tearing through the engine block's primary coolant and electrical harnesses while grazing Viktor’s shoulder.
The Escalade violently veered off course, its front end plowing headfirst into the rusted iron supports of an overhead gantry crane. With a deafening shriek of tearing metal, tons of discarded steel girders collapsed directly onto the SUV's roof, pinning the vehicle to the earth in a shower of sparks and hissing steam.
Roman calmly reholstered his weapon, closed his car door, and drove the station wagon out through the opposite service gate, leaving the wreckage behind him.
Clara looked out the back window at the rising smoke, then turned back to Roman. ""They were very clumsy,"" she said quietly.
Roman allowed himself a rare, genuine smirk. ""Very clumsy indeed, Clara.""
He picked up his secure radio, pressing the direct channel. ""Dante. The tail is neutralized at the 31st rail spur. I’m heading directly to the Old South Loop Vaults. I need you to cut the power grid on that entire commercial block at exactly 5:15 a.m. We're retrieving Box 404 before Salvatore even realizes his strike team has failed.""
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""Copy that, Boss,"" Dante responded, his tone fierce with renewed energy. ""Our loyal units are mobilized. Salvatore’s men are panicking across town—they know you survived the cathedral and the estate. He's pulling all his remaining assets back to his primary distribution warehouse near the docks.""
""Good,"" Roman said, his voice dropping into a register colder than the freezing rain outside. ""Let him gather every traitor in one place. It will save us the trouble of hunting them down one by one.""
