Chapter 13 - The Inside Man
The next two weeks were a suffocating, incredibly tense game of high-stakes corporate and criminal warfare.
Everett’s loyal teams in New York executed flawlessly, systematically destroying Marcus Thorne’s illegal shipping warehouses and offshore accounts.
Thorne was losing millions of dollars every single day, completely enraged by Everett’s aggressive, preemptive strikes.
But a cornered, humiliated animal is always the most dangerous threat in the entire world.
Willa refused to shut down her charitable clinics, insisting that the vulnerable people of Chicago still desperately needed her care.
Everett reluctantly agreed, surrounding her clinic with undercover guards posing as patients, doctors, and custodial staff.
It was a busy Thursday afternoon, and Willa was in the secure pharmacy room, conducting a routine inventory of the highly restricted medications.
She was reviewing the digital logs on her tablet when she noticed a terrifying, subtle discrepancy in the fentanyl supply.
Someone had been slowly, methodically siphoning off the lethal, concentrated painkiller over the last three days.
Willa frowned, pulling up the biometric access records for the heavy steel pharmacy door.
The only person who had entered the room besides her was Dr. Aris, a brilliant, highly recommended pediatrician they had hired six months ago.
Before Willa could process the terrifying implication, the heavy steel door of the pharmacy clicked shut behind her, locking automatically.
Willa spun around, her heart hammering violently against her ribs.
Dr. Aris was standing in the small, enclosed room, looking incredibly nervous and sweating profusely.
"What are you doing, David?" Willa asked, keeping her voice completely calm, relying on her years of trauma training.
Dr. Aris reached into his white medical coat and pulled out a suppressed handgun, pointing it directly at Willa’s chest.
"I am so sorry, Willa," David whispered, his hand shaking violently.
"Marcus Thorne took my brother hostage in Brooklyn."
"He said if I did not inject you with a lethal dose of fentanyl and make it look like a tragic overdose, he would torture my brother to death."
Willa stared at the terrifying weapon, realizing that Marcus Thorne had patiently planted a sleeper agent in her clinic long before he sent the poisoned messenger.
"You do not have to do this, David," Willa reasoned gently, slowly backing away until she hit the cold metal shelving.
"Everett can save your brother."
"Nobody can stop Marcus Thorne!" David cried hysterically, raising the weapon higher.
Willa knew she had exactly one terrifying second to survive.
She reached behind her, grabbing a heavy, glass bottle of sterile saline solution from the top shelf.
With absolute, fearless precision, Willa hurled the heavy glass bottle directly at David’s face.
The bottle shattered against his forehead, causing him to stumble backward and drop the suppressed weapon to the floor.
Willa did not scream; she immediately lunged forward, kicking the gun under the heavy metal cabinets.
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She slammed her hand onto the emergency panic button located on the wall, triggering the clinic's absolute lockdown alarms.
The true queen of Chicago did not need rescuing; she knew exactly how to fight her own battles.
