Chapter 6
The drive to Chicago took 18 hours.
We drove straight through, switching drivers every four hours, only stopping for gas and food at tiny, out-of-the-way stations where nobody knew our names.
Mia was a dream.
She slept most of the way, only waking to feed and have her diaper changed.
I held her in my lap, watching the mountains turn to plains, the plains turn to suburbs, the suburbs turn to the familiar, dirty skyline of Chicago.
My chest ached.
I’d been gone three weeks.
Three weeks since I’d boarded that plane, thinking I was coming home to bury my sister.
Three weeks since my life had turned upside down.
We pulled up to a safe house in Lincoln Park at 2 a.m.
A brownstone, three stories, hidden between two identical buildings on a quiet, tree-lined street.
Jax was waiting for us on the porch.
Mid-30s, shaved head, a scar running down his left cheek, wearing a black leather jacket.
He nodded at Dominic.
Nodded at Sofia.
Looked at me.
Raised an eyebrow.
"This is the nanny?" he said.
"She’s with us," Dominic said. "And she’s not the nanny. She’s family."
The word hung in the air.
Family.
My throat tightened.
We went inside.
The house was empty.
No furniture.
No decorations.
Just sleeping bags on the floor and a table covered in maps and guns.
Five men stood around the table, all of them big, all of them armed, all of them looking like they’d killed a man and slept like a baby afterward.
Dominic walked to the head of the table.
He spread a map of the West Side across the wood.
"The storage unit is here," he said, tapping a red X. "In a facility on 23rd. Open 24 hours. Minimal security. But Vito’s got men staked out. Jax’s guys counted three cars rotating shifts. Two men per car. They’ve been there every day for the last two weeks."
He looked up.
"Here’s the plan. Jax and two men take the front entrance. Sofia and I take the back. Emily stays in the car with Mia and one guard. We go in, we get the files, we get out. Five minutes max. No heroics. No unnecessary shots. We get in, we get out, we’re back at the safe house before the sun comes up."
"I’m going in with you," I said.
Every head turned to me.
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
"No."
"The code is Mark’s," I said. "I know the order he wrote numbers in. I know how he thought. If the lock has a combination? I’m the only one who can open it. If the files are marked with his handwriting? I’m the only one who can find them fast. You leave me in the car? You might as well not go at all."
Dominic stared at me.
I stared back.
He sighed.
"Fine. You come in. But you stay behind me. Every step. If I tell you to get down, you get down. If I tell you to run, you run. Mia stays in the car with Rico. If anything goes wrong? Rico drives her away. No questions. No waiting for us."
He looked at Rico, the youngest of the guards, a kid of 22 with a baby face and eyes like flint.
"You understand?"
Rico nodded.
"Yes, boss."
"Good." Dominic rolled up the map. "We move in 30 minutes. Get your gear on. And remember—if this goes south? We don’t leave anyone behind. Ever."
The next 30 minutes were a blur.
I put on a black hoodie and jeans, the same as everyone else.
Sofia strapped a small, lightweight gun to my ankle, showing me how to pull it out fast if I needed it.
"Shoot to kill," she said. "Don’t hesitate. If someone points a gun at you? You shoot them first. You can feel bad about it later."
I nodded.
My hands were shaking.
But my mind was clear.
I was doing this for Mark.
For Ethan and Liam.
For Lila.
For Mia.
I was done running.
We pulled up to the storage facility 10 minutes later.
It was a big, gray concrete building, surrounded by a chain-link fence with barbed wire on top.
The gate was open.
A single security guard sat in a booth at the entrance, his feet on the desk, watching a portable TV.
Jax’s car pulled up first.
He and two men got out.
They walked up to the booth.
I couldn’t see what happened.
But a second later, the guard was on the ground, and Jax was waving us through.
We drove to the back of the facility, parking next to unit 417.
The red X on the map.
The unit was a standard 10x10, with a roll-up metal door and a heavy combination lock.
Dominic stood in front of the door, his gun raised, scanning the dark.
Sofia stood at the end of the row, watching the other entrance.
Jax and his men spread out, covering all angles.
I knelt in front of the lock.
I pulled out the photo.
Stared at the numbers on the back.
12-24-09.
Mark’s handwriting.
Our wedding anniversary.
My hands shook as I turned the dial.
Right 12.
Left 24.
Right 09.
The lock clicked.
I pulled it off.
Grabbed the handle of the door.
Took a deep breath.
And pulled.
The door rolled up with a loud, metallic groan.
Inside, the unit was empty.
Except for one small, metal safe in the middle of the floor.
And a single piece of paper, taped to the top of the safe.
Written in red ink.
Took you long enough, Walker.
A light turned on.
Bright, blinding, from the end of the row.
Then another.
And another.
Men started shouting.
Gunshots.
Loud, close, deafening.
Dominic grabbed me, throwing me to the ground, covering my body with his.
May you like
Bullets whizzed over our heads, hitting the concrete walls, sending sparks flying.
"It’s a trap!" Jax screamed. "They’re everywhere! We’re surrounded!"
