Chapter 35 - Bloodhound Protocol
By three in the morning, the rain had intensified into a raging squall that battered the skyline of Chicago. Inside the war room, Dominic tapped furiously on multiple keyboards, his headset crackling with encrypted satellite relays.
"The helicopter was a decoy," Dominic announced, zooming in on thermal satellite footage over Lake Michigan. "It dumped transponders into the water near Navy Pier and turned southwest toward the industrial rust corridor of Gary, Indiana. Helena’s pilot was ex-French Foreign Legion. They landed in an abandoned rail sorting yard near the steel mills."
"Gary?" Emma leaned over the table, analyzing the blueprints Dominic had brought up. "That area is a ghost town. Miles of abandoned warehouses, toxic slag heaps, and rusted rail tracks."
"It's a fortress," Vincent corrected. "Helena bought those steel yards thirty years ago under shell corporations registered in Liechtenstein. The rail yard has subterranean maintenance tunnels that connect directly to the Calumet shipping canal. If she reaches a cargo freighter on that canal, she can take Leo onto international waters. Once she’s past the maritime boundary, we will never see him again."
"Then we strike now," Emma said without hesitation, her hands balling into fists.
Vincent looked at her, his expression tight with concern. "Emma, you are not a soldier. You stopped a spoiled socialite in a ballroom with bravery, but this is a paramilitary cell. Helena has spent thirty years planning this vengeance. The men guarding that yard are mercenaries, not private security guards."
"Leo is my sister's son!" Emma shouted, stepping right into Vincent’s personal space, refusing to back down. "My sister died giving birth to him! I raised that boy on minimum wage, working twelve-hour shifts at diners and catering halls! I cleaned toilets and endured humiliation from the likes of Victoria Sterling so he could have a future! If you think I’m going to sit in this ivory tower while that monster hurts him, you don't know me at all, Vincent Moretti!"
Vincent stared at her, the cold fury in his amber eyes suddenly shifting into something profound—a fierce, unspoken respect that cut through the darkness of his past.
"Dominic," Vincent ordered without breaking eye contact with Emma. "Give her tactical vest Level-IV ceramic plating. Fit her with a suppressed sidearm and an emergency beacon. Show her how to clear a jam."
Dominic nodded grimly. "Yes, sir."
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"Listen to me, Emma," Vincent said, stepping closer, his hand coming up to gently cup the side of her face. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone, wiping away a stray raindrop. "I will bring Leo back. Even if I have to tear Helena’s empire apart with my bare hands, I swear to you, your nephew will come home. But if we enter that yard, you do not leave my sight. Not for a single second."
"I won't," Emma whispered, her voice steady and resolute. "Let's go get my boy."
