Chapter 8 - BETRAYAL WITHIN THE INNER CIRCLE
The underground drainage tunnel smelled of damp earth and stagnant water.
We scrambled through the concrete pipe, our boots splashing against shallow puddles.
Behind us, muffled shouts echoed from inside the cabin.
“They’re searching the cellar!” Marcus panted, holding his flashlight low.
“Keep moving!” I ordered, pushing forward through the dark.
Ten minutes later, we emerged from the concrete culvert into the freezing night air beside the riverbank.
A thick layer of fog hung over the dark water.
Parked a hundred yards away on a logging road was Marcus’s personal truck.
We sprinted across the muddy embankment and piled into the cab.
Marcus slammed his foot on the gas pedal.
The truck roared to life, kicking up mud as we sped away into the forest.
“Where to?” Marcus asked, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Chicago,” I said firmly.
“Chicago?” Marcus looked at me as if I had lost my mind.
“Vincent has every checkpoint into the city locked down!”
“Exactly,” I smiled faintly.
“He’s expecting us to run north toward Canada or hide in the mountains.”
“He’ll never look for us right under his nose in the heart of downtown Chicago.”
“And where in Chicago could we possibly hide?” Marcus demanded.
“In the penthouse suite of the Moretti Grand Hotel,” I answered coolly.
Marcus nearly drove the truck off the logging road.
“Are you insane? That’s his flagship casino and hotel! His private office is on the top floor!”
“Which means it has the most secure private server in the state,” I said, tapping my laptop bag.
May you like
“And the highest-speed fiber-optic uplink to transmit our federal data package directly to the Department of Justice.”
“Sometimes, Marcus, you have to hide inside the dragon’s mouth to avoid its fire.”
