Chapter 9 - THE ASHES OF THE RIVERSIDE
-9
The smoke from the Walther drifted slowly toward the shattered window, mixing with the cold night air blowing off the river.
Viktor Vance slumped sideways against the filing cabinet, a dark, growing stain blooming across the chest of his silk shirt, his eyes wide and vacant as he slid down onto the floorboards.
Adeline slowly lowered the smoking gun. Her hands weren't shaking. In fact, for the first time in three years, the violent tremor that had lived inside her chest since the night her father died was completely gone. The ghost had been laid to rest.
Enzo didn't look at the body. He looked entirely at Adeline, watching the profound, irreversible shift happening behind her stormy gray eyes.
“It’s done,” Enzo said softly.
“It’s done,” Adeline echoed, her voice barely a whisper.
Footsteps pounded up the metal stairs outside the office, and Marcus burst through the broken doorway, his submachine gun raised, followed by three armed enforcers. They took in the scene in a fraction of a second—Viktor on the floor, Enzo standing calm, and Adeline holding the smoking weapon.
“Boss,” Marcus panted, lowering his weapon. “The loading dock is clear. All of Viktor’s men are disarmed and zip-tied in the yard. What about him?” Marcus pointed his chin at Viktor’s body.
“He had an unfortunate accident while reaching for a weapon,” Enzo said smoothly, the standard underworld alibi rolling off his tongue without a hitch. “Marcus, take the transfer documents to our legal team first thing in the morning. I want the docks rebranded and integrated into our logistics network by sundown.”
“Consider it done, Boss,” Marcus nodded, casting a quick, respectful glance toward Adeline before turning his men around to secure the perimeter.
Enzo stepped closer to Adeline, reaching out and gently taking the Walther from her unresisting fingers. He engaged the safety and slipped it back into his holster.
“Come on,” Enzo said, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, guiding her away from the carnage. “Let’s go home.”
As they walked down the metal fire escape into the chill of the Chicago night, the sirens of municipal police—delayed, as always, by anonymous phone calls directing them to the wrong side of the city—began to wail in the distance.
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Adeline looked up at the towering silhouette of the city skyline glittering against the dark clouds. She wasn't a maid anymore. She had walked into the Marchetti fortress as a ghost seeking revenge, and she was walking out as something entirely different.
Enzo held open the door of the Maybach for her, sheltering her from the wind with his broad shoulders. As she slid into the warm leather interior, she realized that while she had settled her father’s debt, her own story with the most feared mafia boss in Chicago was only just beginning.
