Chapter 2 - The Race Against Death Through Chicago Rain
Frankie slammed his foot onto the heavy gas pedal, sending the armored Escalade roaring through six inches of standing water.
The three-ton luxury truck surged past closed warehouses, its red emergency strobe lights painting the wet asphalt in frantic shades of crimson.
In the back seat, Lorenzo "Enzo" Vitale held Elena’s frozen body tightly against his chest, his hands trembling as he pressed his custom suit jacket against her bloodied side.
“Stay with me, Elena,” Enzo growled into her wet hair, his voice cracking with a desperate terror he had never felt before in his thirty-eight years.
“Don't you dare close your eyes, tesoro. Look at me. Look at my eyes.”
Elena’s eyelids fluttered weakly, revealing a sliver of pale green through her dark eyelashes as her cold lips struggled to form words.
“The baby... Lorenzo... save our baby,” she whimpered, her voice dropping into a barely audible whisper that almost drowned in the roar of the engine.
Enzo shifted his grip, gently placing his left hand over the heavy, solid roundness of her swollen belly.
Beneath his palm, through the soaked cotton of her dress, he felt a faint, feeble kick—a tiny, frantic pulse of life fighting against the darkness.
A lump formed in his throat, tight and painful, as tears of pure rage and guilt threatened to spill over his eyes.
“I’ve got both of you,” Enzo swore, pressing his forehead against her icy temple. “I will burn this entire city to ash before I let either of you go.”
Up front, Frankie’s knuckles were white against the leather steering wheel as he navigated the slick, treacherous turns of the industrial corridor.
“Boss, Northwestern Memorial is fifteen minutes out, but the main roads are flooded!” Frankie yelled back over his shoulder.
“Screw the public hospitals!” Enzo roared back, his eyes flashing with lethal authority.
“Take us to Dr. Mercer’s private trauma facility on Michigan Avenue! Call ahead and tell him if he isn't ready in five minutes, I’ll personally execute him!”
Frankie tapped the Bluetooth earpiece in his ear, frantically dialing the encrypted private line while running a red light at sixty miles per hour.
Enzo looked down at Elena’s face, watching the color drain from her cheeks like water disappearing down a sewer grate.
Her breath was coming in shallow, ragged gasps, and the dark stain beneath her ribcage was expanding through his heavy wool coat.
“Who did this to you, Elena?” Enzo whispered, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth clicked together.
“Who put their filthy hands on you?”
Elena’s hand twitched, her fingers weakly grasping the lapel of his shirt, pulling him an inch closer to her mouth.
“The... the silver ring,” she gasped, her body shuddering as a violent tremor shook her frame.
“He... he wore a snake ring... on his thumb.”
Enzo’s blood turned to liquid nitrogen in his veins as recognition struck him like a physical blow.
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The silver snake ring belonged to Mateo Moretti—the ruthless Underboss of the rivaling Syndicate branch who was supposed to be in New York.
Moretti hadn't just attacked a random civilian; he had hunted down Elena specifically to destroy Lorenzo Vitale’s bloodline before it could ever take a breath.
