Chapter 5 - The Chase in the Sub-Level
The concrete of the Santoro Tower sub-level garage was slick with oil and melting frost from the cars coming in off the street. The air tasted of exhaust fumes and damp cement. Marin’s sneakers hit the pavement with frantic slaps as she ran between rows of parked sedans and luxury SUVs, her breath frosting in the harsh fluorescent glare.
Behind her, the heavy metal fire door banged open with a loud, metallic crash.
"Bitch! Come back here!" Leo’s voice echoed down the garage, thick with pain and rage, his nose bleeding profusely into his shirt collar as he stumbled out of the stairwell.
Marin didn't look back. She rounded the corner of row C, her eyes scanning desperately for her silver sedan. There it was—three stalls down, wedged between a black Lincoln Town Car and a concrete pillar.
She fumbled with her keys, her fingers shaking so badly she dropped the ring onto the oil-stained pavement.
Damn it!
She dropped to her knees, sweeping her gloved hands across the concrete until her fingers brushed the cold brass ring. As she snatched it up, footsteps rounded the corner behind her.
"Got you," Leo wheezed, lunging forward with a heavy tire iron he had grabbed from an open maintenance cart.
Before the iron could come down, a massive dark figure materialized from the shadows beside the concrete pillar. Abel Ferraro caught Leo’s wrist mid-swing with a grip like a hydraulic press.
Leo let out a strangled shriek of agony as Abel’s fingers tightened around his bones, the tire iron clattering uselessly against the concrete floor.
"Where do you think you're going, Leo?" Abel asked, his voice low, flat, and dripping with controlled menace.
"Abel—let me go! The girl—she has the ledgers! She’s part of the conspiracy!" Leo wailed, thrashing wildly in Abel’s grip.
Abel didn't loosen his hold by a millimeter. He turned his head slightly toward the silver sedan where Marin was pressed against the driver’s door, wide-eyed, her chest heaving as she held the pepper spray canister out like a shield.
"Get in the car, miss," Abel said calmly, his eyes never leaving Leo’s terrified face.
"I... I didn't steal anything," Marin stammered, her voice cracking. "I just wanted to work. I just wanted to pay for my mother's care..."
"I know," Abel said, his tone softening just a fraction—the closest thing to gentleness the old driver was capable of. "And nobody is going to touch you. Get in the car and drive straight home. Don't stop for red lights."
Marin didn't need to be told twice. She unlocked the door, dived into the driver’s seat, slammed it shut, and hit the door lock button. Within seconds, the old silver engine roared to life, coughing a cloud of gray smoke into the garage before peeling out toward the exit ramp at high speed.
Leo watched her taillights disappear up the ramp, his face twisting in despair. "Rafael is going to kill us both... you don't know what Celeste’s people are capable of—"
"Rafael already knows," a quiet voice said from the darkness near the elevator bank.
Leo stopped thrashing. Abel turned his head slightly.
Rafael Santoro stepped out from the shadows of the concrete pillar. His overcoat was unbuttoned, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face carved from absolute, unyielding ice.
He walked slowly toward Leo, stopping two feet away from the bleeding, cowering financial manager.
"You broke the rule, Leo," Rafael said softly. "You laid hands on someone who couldn't fight back. And you lied to my face."
"Rafael, please! I have a family! I have accounts in the Caymans, I can give you everything—everything!" Leo sobbed, falling to his knees on the oil-stained concrete.
Rafael looked down at him with the cold detachment of a judge reading a death warrant.
"Abel," Rafael said quietly. "Take him to the warehouse on the river. The one with the cold floor."
May you like
Abel nodded, hoisting Leo up by his collar like a broken doll.
Rafael turned away, walking slowly toward his waiting black sedan, knowing that the storm was only just beginning—and that the ghosts of Chicago were finally coming home to collect their debt.
