Chapter 18 - The Siege of the Gold Coast
Bernardo’s warning was not an empty threat.Two weeks later, the war that had been simmering under the surface of the Five Families breached the city limits of Chicago.It began on a freezing Friday night in November. Luca and I were returning from a private dinner in the Gold Coast district, escorted by a four-car convoy. The city streets were slick with fresh black ice, neon reflections blurring across the wet asphalt.As our motorcade crossed the intersection of Michigan Avenue and Superior Street, a cement mixer truck blew through a red light at full speed, slamming violently into our lead security vehicle.*BOOM!*The impact flipped the armored SUV, sending it spinning into the glass storefront of a luxury boutique."Ambush!" Marco screamed from the front passenger seat of our Suburban. "Reverse! Reverse!"Before the driver could shift gears, two black vans screeched around the corner, blocking our rear retreat. The side doors slid open, and armed men wearing tactical gear and black balaclavas leaped out, opening fire with automatic rifles.The sound was apocalyptic. Bullets pummeled our armored vehicle like hail, spider-webbing the thick ballistic glass."Clara, get down on the floorboards!" Luca shouted, grabbing me by the waist and forcing me into the footwell beneath his body."Who are they?" I gasped, my ears ringing from the deafening cacophony of metal tearing metal."Not Bellandi," Luca grunted, pulling two high-capacity magazines from his coat. "These are New York hit squads. Bernardo didn't come to talk two weeks ago. He came to scout our security routes!"The driver of our Suburban took a round through the windshield seal and collapsed over the steering wheel, his foot slipping off the brake. The vehicle lurched forward, crashing into a lamppost."Marco, we can't stay in the car! The armor won't hold against armor-piercing rounds for more than two minutes!" Luca yelled."Moving on your mark, Boss!" Marco yelled back, kicking open the passenger door and firing blindly into the street.Luca reached down, his hands finding mine in the darkness of the footwell. He pulled me up to his chest, his dark eyes blazing with an unholy, terrifying beauty."Clara... look at me," he commanded softly, completely unfazed by the storm of bullets shredding the steel inches from his skull.I looked into his eyes, breathing hard, my hands gripping the lapels of his coat."Whatever happens out there," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine, "you stay behind me. We fight our way into the hotel lobby across the street. Do you trust me?""With my life," I answered instantly, without a second of hesitation."Good," Luca said, kicking his door wide open. "Then let’s show New York how Chicago bleeds."We erupted into the freezing night.Luca moved like an unstoppable force of nature, his weapons firing in rhythmic, deadly cadence. Every shot he took found a mark; two hitmen fell before they could clear their barrels. Marco laid down suppressive fire from the right flank, while the guards from our trailing SUV joined the counter-assault.I sprinted beside Luca, my eyes darting across the smoke-filled intersection. Suddenly, I saw a shooter positioned on the fire escape above the hotel entrance, raising a sniper rifle directly toward Luca’s back."Luca, above!" I screamed.Luca spun, bringing his weapon up, but his slide locked back—empty.Without thinking, I lunged forward, grabbing a heavy brass street stanchion that had been knocked over in the crash, and threw it with all my strength against the metal ladder of the fire escape. The ringing metallic chime threw off the shooter's aim for a split second.The sniper's bullet sparked off the concrete six inches from Luca’s boots.In that single second of distraction, Marco fired upward, taking the sniper out. The body tumbled down, landing heavily on the pavement.We breached the revolving doors of the hotel, security guards locking down the heavy steel storm shutters behind us as police sirens began wailing across the downtown grid.The siege was over, but the message was written in blood on the streets of Chicago: the Five Families had officially crossed the line.***
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