Chapter 2 - The Neon Abyss
The rain was a freezing sheet by the time I flagged down a cab outside a blinding intersection on Michigan Avenue. I didn't care about my hair, ruined by the water, or the thousands of dollars of designer silk clinging to my skin like a second skin.
"Where to, miss?" the driver asked, eyeing my torn bridal gown through the rearview mirror with a mixture of suspicion and alarm.
"Downtown. Anywhere near the riverfront warehouse district," I choked out, staring blindly out the rain-streaked window.
I needed to get to my father’s old office, to the private physical safe behind his mahogany desk where the original incorporation papers of Hayes Logistics were kept—not the digitized copies Preston had access to, but the hard documents with my father’s handwritten notes in the margins. The documents that proved Judge Witmore’s signature was forged on the acquisition deeds.
But as the cab wove through the heavy evening traffic, a string of black SUVs began tailing us with terrifying discipline. I saw them in the reflection of the glass—two matte-finished Cadillacs with tinted windows, maintaining an identical distance, never signaling, cutting off other drivers with predatory precision.
Preston realized I was gone. Or worse, he checked the hallway camera.
"Driver," I said, my voice rising in pitch. "Can you take a left on Franklin? Go through the alley."
"Lady, that area's locked down tonight," the driver muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Private clubs. Heavy security. You don't want to go down there looking like—"
A dull thud echoed from behind us. The cab lurched violently as one of the black SUVs tapped our rear bumper, sending the car sliding across the wet asphalt.
"Hey! Are you crazy?" the driver yelled, slamming on the brakes.
"Go! Drive!" I screamed, opening my purse and throwing a handful of hundred-dollar bills onto the front seat.
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The cab accelerated hard, turning down a narrow, cobblestone alleyway wedged between two monolithic brick warehouses. But the alley was a dead end. Towering iron gates blocked the far side, and behind us, the two black SUVs swung into the entrance, cutting off our only escape route, their high-beam headlights blindingly bright in the pouring rain.
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