Chapter 17 - The Exchange
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The silence in the warehouse was deafening, broken only by the crackle of the small fires burning near the entrance.
Lorenzo stared down from the catwalk, his face purple with rage. He was trapped. If he ordered his men to fire, Victor’s thumb would instinctively depress the detonator, vaporizing the entire building.
"Drop your weapons!" Lorenzo finally screamed to his mercenaries, furiously slamming his fist against the railing.
The sound of dozens of assault rifles clattering onto the concrete floor echoed through the cavernous space. The heavily armed men slowly backed away, clearing a wide path toward the loading dock doors.
"Walk," Victor muttered to me, keeping his body positioned between me and the hostile crowd.
We moved slowly, deliberately, toward the exit. My heart hammered against my ribs, expecting a bullet in my back with every step.
"This isn't over, Victor!" Lorenzo roared from above as we neared the heavy metal doors. "You can't hide her forever! She carries the blood of a thief!"
Victor stopped. He didn't turn around, but he raised his voice, ensuring every remaining Falcone soldier heard him clearly.
"She carries the blood of the woman who is going to rule Chicago beside me," Victor stated, his voice ringing with absolute, uncompromising authority. "If a single Falcone soldier ever breathes in her direction again, I won't just blow up a warehouse. I will slaughter your entire bloodline. Consider this my final warning."
We pushed through the loading dock doors, bursting out into the freezing Chicago night.
Three armored black SUVs were idling on the tarmac, surrounded by Victor's elite, heavily armed loyalists.
"Boss!" a lieutenant yelled, opening the rear door of the lead vehicle.
Victor shoved me into the back seat, diving in right behind me. "Drive!"
The convoy tore out of the industrial park, tires screeching as we sped away from the trap.
I collapsed against the leather seat, gasping for air, the adrenaline finally crashing. Victor sat beside me, still holding the detonator.
"Were you really going to blow up the building?" I whispered, staring at the small black device.
Victor looked at me, a faint, exhausted smirk touching his lips. He tossed the detonator onto the opposite seat.
"It's a garage door opener, Harper," Victor confessed softly. "I didn't have time to wire explosives. I just needed them to hesitate long enough for us to walk out."
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I stared at him in utter shock, and then, completely uncontrollably, I started to laugh. It was a hysterical, broken sound of pure relief.
Victor pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head, holding me as we sped back toward the safety of the estate. The war was officially declared, but we had won the first battle.
