Chapter 6 - THE SHADOWS OF CHICAGO FOLLOW NORTH
Back in Chicago, the power vacuum left by Alexander’s absence in the syndicate did not go unnoticed.
Viktor Morena—the ruthless head of the rival Brooklyn faction—saw his opportunity.
With Alexander distracted by grief, guilt, and his desperate trip to Toronto, Morena began moving his men into Chicago’s lucrative shipping lanes.
Madison Hayes, Alexander’s ambitious younger sister, sat in the executive suite of the Hayes Casino and Hotel.
She slammed her fist onto the glass desk.
“What do you mean Morena’s men hijacked our container shipment?! Where is my brother?!” Madison demanded of Marcus, who stood by the door with an expression of cold disdain.
“Your brother is in Toronto chasing his wife, Ms. Hayes,” Marcus replied flatly.
“Chasing her?! She’s the one who abandoned him after her brat caused a scene!” Madison sneered, her face twisting with spite.
“If Olivia hadn't pointed out how unstable Emily was becoming, we wouldn't even be in this mess!”
Marcus stepped forward, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
“Listen to me very carefully, Madison,” Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave into pure menace.
“You and your precious little friend Olivia can scheme all you want in this hotel.”
“But if you ever speak of Grace that way again, I won't wait for Alexander to come back from Canada to handle you.”
Madison shrank back, swallowing hard against the sudden terror in Marcus’s voice.
“You... you work for the Hayes family!” she stammered.
“I work for the throne, Madison,” Marcus corrected her coldly.
“And right now, the throne is empty because your brother chose a birthday party over his own flesh and blood.”
“You’re all pathetic,” Madison hissed, grabbing her designer bag and storming out of the office.
Marcus pulled out his encrypted burner phone.
He dialed a number he hadn't used in years.
It rang twice before a familiar, tired voice answered.
“Marcus?”
“Emily,” Marcus said quietly.
“Morena is moving in on the Chicago docks. The syndicate is fracturing.”
“Why are you telling me this, Marcus?” I asked from the other end of the line.
“Because Alexander isn't fighting back,” Marcus warned.
“He’s sitting in a hotel room in Toronto drinking himself to death, waiting outside your apartment every single day.”
“If someone doesn't remind him who he is, Morena is going to take everything he built.”
“Let him take it,” I said firmly.
“That empire was built on blood and neglect.”
“Let it burn.”
“And what about you, Emily?” Marcus asked softly.
“Can you really pretend the man bleeding out in Toronto isn't the boy you fell in love with ten years ago?”
May you like
I hung up the phone without answering.
Because I was afraid the answer was already too complicated to bear.
