Chapter 2 - FIVE MINUTES LATER
Glass rained from the ceiling.
Evelyn hit the marble floor before she understood she had moved.
Screams erupted across The Obsidian.
Guests overturned chairs.
Servers dropped trays.
A second shot cracked from near the bar.
Then a third.
The elegant dining room collapsed into chaos.
Lorenzo moved with terrifying speed.
The stillness was gone.
One second he was sitting beside Celeste.
The next he had dragged the table onto its side and shoved two guests behind it.
His lieutenant pulled a weapon.
Another man beside him went down before he could stand.
Celeste screamed.
But Evelyn noticed something strange.
She screamed too late.
A fraction of a second too late.
Like an actress missing her cue.
Lorenzo noticed too.
His eyes found hers across the overturned table.
Celeste crawled toward him.
“Lorenzo!”
“Stay down.”
“They’re shooting at us!”
“No.”
He looked toward the men near the bar.
“They’re shooting at me.”
Evelyn crawled behind a marble service column.
A waiter lay beside her clutching his shoulder.
Blood soaked through his white shirt.
She grabbed a linen napkin and pressed it against the wound.
“Hold this.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Another burst of gunfire sent glass exploding from the back wall.
Evelyn ducked.
Gilbert appeared through the kitchen doors.
For one instant, relief hit her.
Then she saw the pistol in his hand.
He wasn’t aiming at the attackers.
He was aiming at Lorenzo.
Evelyn’s mouth went dry.
“Lorenzo!”
Gilbert fired.
Lorenzo turned at the sound of his name.
The bullet struck the silver serving cart beside him.
Lorenzo’s lieutenant returned fire.
Gilbert vanished behind the kitchen doors.
Celeste flinched.
Lorenzo looked at her.
“Your manager just tried to kill me.”
Evelyn rose to one knee.
“He knew about the note.”
That changed everything.
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“You told him?”
“No.”
“He saw me writing.”
Celeste stared at Evelyn.
Pure hatred replaced the polished socialite mask.
“You stupid little girl.”
Lorenzo turned slowly toward his fiancée.
“What did you say?”
Celeste seemed to realize her mistake.
“I said she should stay down.”
“No.”
Lorenzo’s voice became quieter.
“You didn’t.”
Another shot cracked from the mezzanine.
Lorenzo shoved Celeste aside.
A bullet struck the wall where his head had been.
His lieutenant pointed upward.
“Second floor!”
Two Moretti guards moved toward the staircase.
The attackers were everywhere.
Evelyn finally understood the scale of it.
This wasn’t one assassination attempt.
It was an execution plan.
The bar.
The kitchen.
The mezzanine.
The exits.
Somebody had mapped the entire restaurant.
And Celeste had been counting down to it.
Lorenzo looked toward Evelyn.
“Which way?”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“You told me not to use north.”
Another table splintered beneath gunfire.
Lorenzo grabbed her arm and pulled her behind cover.
“Which way gets us out?”
“I work here.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
The fire alarm suddenly screamed overhead.
Red emergency lights began flashing.
Smoke poured from the kitchen.
Evelyn looked toward the staff corridors.
“The laundry passage.”
“Where?”
“Behind the private wine room.”
“Does it lead outside?”
“To Lower Wacker.”
Lorenzo glanced at his surviving men.
“Move.”
Celeste grabbed his sleeve.
“You can’t trust her.”
He looked down at her hand.
Then at her face.
“Interesting choice of words.”
Celeste released him.
Evelyn crawled toward the wine room.
Lorenzo followed.
Two guards covered them.
Celeste came too.
Evelyn almost protested.
Then she realized Lorenzo wanted her close.
Not because he trusted her.
Because he wanted to watch her.
They reached the wine room.
Evelyn shoved aside a decorative rack and pressed a hidden maintenance latch.
A narrow service door opened.
Cold air rushed through.
Lorenzo stared at the passage.
“You knew about this?”
“I’ve been sneaking five-minute breaks down here for months.”
For the first time that night, something almost human crossed his face.
“Remind me to improve employee benefits.”
Evelyn nearly laughed.
Then another gunshot struck the wine bottles above them.
They ran.
The service tunnel smelled like detergent, concrete, and river damp.
Emergency bulbs flickered overhead.
Behind them, footsteps entered the passage.
Lorenzo’s men turned and fired.
Evelyn kept running.
At the far end stood an old steel door.
She reached for the handle.
Lorenzo grabbed her shoulder.
“Stop.”
“What?”
He pointed.
A thin wire stretched across the floor.
Evelyn’s stomach dropped.
She had used this passage dozens of times.
That wire had never been there.
Lorenzo crouched.
“Pressure trigger.”
Celeste whispered, “Oh my God.”
Evelyn looked at her.
Celeste looked genuinely frightened now.
Which meant this part wasn’t hers.
Lorenzo noticed that too.
“You didn’t know about this one.”
Celeste stared at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course.”
His voice was ice.
One of Lorenzo’s men stepped forward.
“There’s another door twenty yards back.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Storage only.”
“Then we go back.”
Footsteps echoed behind them.
Too many.
Lorenzo looked at the wire.
Then at the ceiling.
Then at Evelyn.
“How high does this shaft go?”
She followed his gaze.
Above the laundry passage was a narrow freight ventilation opening.
“Basement dock.”
“Can you fit?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Can you?”
He removed his jacket.
“We’re about to find out.”
A bullet ricocheted down the corridor.
They climbed.
The shaft was dark and coated with dust.
Evelyn scraped her palms raw pulling herself upward.
Lorenzo climbed directly beneath her.
Celeste followed behind him.
Gunfire continued below.
Evelyn reached the upper grate and kicked.
It didn’t move.
She kicked again.
Nothing.
Lorenzo braced one hand against the wall.
“Move aside.”
“There is no aside.”
“Then duck.”
He drove his shoulder into the grate.
Metal tore loose.
Cold Chicago air flooded in.
Evelyn crawled onto the loading dock.
Lorenzo emerged seconds later.
Celeste came after him.
Then the building shook.
A deep explosion rolled through the tunnel beneath them.
The service grate belched smoke.
Evelyn stumbled backward.
The blast had come from inside The Obsidian.
Sirens began screaming in the distance.
Lorenzo looked across the Chicago River.
His expression was unreadable.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Said nothing for several seconds.
“What happened?” Celeste asked.
Lorenzo slowly lowered the phone.
His eyes settled on her.
“That was my warehouse on Halsted.”
Celeste’s face paled.
Lorenzo continued.
“Three minutes ago, somebody hit my Cicero garage.”
Another phone rang from one of his guards.
Then another.
Lorenzo looked toward the city skyline.
May you like
The attack at The Obsidian had only been the opening move.
Chicago was exploding around them.
