Chapter 4 - The First Crack
The peace of the mansion was shattered three days later,
not by a gunshot,
but by a simple,
unmarked envelope delivered to the front gate.
I was in the kitchen,
helping Lily paint a picture of a sun,
when Roman walked in.
He didn't say a word,
but his face was the color of ash.
He held a single Polaroid photo in his hand.
I didn't need to see it to know what it was.
I saw the way his fingers shook,
a tremor I had never seen in him before.
“What is it?”
I asked,
standing up and pulling Lily close to my side.
Roman didn't answer at first,
his eyes locked on the image.
Then,
without a word,
he turned it around.
It was a photo of our old apartment building,
the one I had lived in with Lily.
In the foreground,
held up by a gloved hand,
was Lily’s favorite stuffed rabbit,
the one she had accidentally left behind in our hurry to leave.
The Syndicate didn't just know we existed,
they had been inside our home.
Lily let out a small,
excited chirp when she saw the rabbit.
“Barnaby!”
she cried,
reaching for the photo.
Roman pulled it away,
his face contorting into a mask of cold,
unadulterated fury.
“They’re taunting me,”
he hissed,
his voice sounding like grinding stone.
“They’re showing me how easily they can reach through my walls.”
He turned to one of his guards,
who was standing by the door.
“Double the perimeter.”
“Lock down the estate.”
“No one enters or leaves without my personal authorization.”
He looked at me,
and for a moment,
I saw the monster the city spoke of.
The compassion was gone,
replaced by a tactical,
lethal coldness.
“They want the ledger,
Maya.”
“And they think Lily is the key to making me find it for them.”
“I have to move you,”
he said,
his mind already racing through escape routes.
“This house is no longer a sanctuary,
it’s a target.”
“Where could we possibly be safer than here?”
I asked,
terror clawing at my throat.
“In the one place they’d never expect me to go,”
he replied.
“To the basement of the old cathedral in Pilsen.”
“It was our father’s last retreat.”
“It’s a fortress beneath the earth.”
As we packed our bags in a frantic silence,
Lily clung to my leg,
sensing the shift in the air.
The guards moved with a grim urgency,
checking weapons and clearing hallways.
Roman took my arm,
his grip firm but not unkind.
“Stay close to me,”
he ordered.
“Whatever happens,
don't let go of her hand.”
As we stepped into the armored car,
the sun was beginning to set over Chicago,
casting long,
bloody shadows over the city.
The war hadn't just arrived,
it had found its way to our doorstep.
May you like
And Roman Callahan was no longer just an uncle,
he was a general leading us into the dark.
