Chapter 14 - The Ghosts of the Past
Alessandro instantly registered the sudden rigidness in Maeve’s posture. In a fraction of a second, the relaxed, leisurely stride vanished, replaced by the lethal, hyper-focused predator who commanded the city’s darkest corridors.
His hand darted out, gently catching her elbow to steady her. “Maeve. Look at me. What is it?”
Maeve slowly lowered her phone, her hazel eyes wide with a mix of shock and disbelief as she looked up at him. She handed the screen over without a word.
Alessandro’s eyes scanned the encrypted message and the photograph in less than a second. His jaw tightened instantly, a cold, dangerous fury flashing across his dark eyes like lightning before a thunderstorm. The temperature around him seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Thomas Vance,” Maeve whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “How is that possible? He left Chicago for Zurich after the hospital board scandal. He shouldn't even be in the country.”
“He’s not here by coincidence,” Alessandro said, his voice dropping into a low, metallic register that sent a shiver down her spine. He tapped the screen, examining the metadata of the transmission. “This is a trap. Someone from the old syndicate remnants dredged up your medical career to rattle your nerves and test our perimeter.”
“He signed the hospital endowment check three years ago,” Maeve read aloud from the message, a sudden cold realization dawning on her. “Alessandro... when I was working at Mercy General, before I ever met you... Vance was the one who approved my research grant. But the funding came through a shell corporation.”
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked together in his tactical mind. “Vance wasn’t just a surgeon, Maeve. He was a laundering node for the North Side syndicate’s medical procurement front. When I dismantled their pharmaceutical supply chain three years ago, his accounts were frozen. He lost everything.”
“And he blames you,” Maeve said, looking up at him with sudden fierce protectiveness. “Or worse... he thinks he can use me to get to you.”
Alessandro let out a dark, humorless laugh, his hand slipping down to firmly clasp hers. “Let him try. Thomas Vance is a scalpel-wielding bureaucrat playing a game he doesn't understand. He thinks he’s dealing with a soft target because you wear civilian clothes.”
“What are we going to do?” Maeve asked, her initial shock entirely replaced by the cold, calculated resolve she had learned from standing beside him through the worst nights of the war.
“We aren't going to do anything,” Alessandro replied smoothly, pulling out his secure satellite phone with his free hand. “Dante.”
The connection was answered on the first ring. “Boss?”
“Track the encrypted relay that sent the transmission to Mrs. Rossi’s phone. I want Thomas Vance’s exact GPS coordinates within ten minutes. And bring the black Mercedes around to Oak Street Beach—entrance gate four.”
“Consider it done,” Dante’s voice crackled through the secure channel before the line clicked dead.
May you like
Alessandro slipped the phone back into his coat pocket, turning fully to face Maeve. He reached up, cupping her face with both hands, his thumbs gently brushing her cheekbones.
“Listen to me, Maeve,” Alessandro said, his voice absolute and unshakeable. “No ghost from your past, no disgruntled surgeon, and no syndicate rat will ever touch you. I built this empire so that nothing could ever reach inside our walls. Today, Thomas Vance is going to learn what happens when you knock on the wrong door.”
