Chapter 7 - The Syndicate's Retaliation
Three days passed in a tense, quiet limbo. Nathan moved Evelyn and the twins to one of his secure safehouses—a heavily fortified brownstone in Lincoln Park that looked like an ordinary historical home from the outside but featured ballistic glass, reinforced steel walls, and a rotating guard of eight heavily armed men.
Evelyn spent those days healing, her bruises fading under the care of a private doctor Nathan had paid for. June and Jade never left her side, clinging to her like safety blankets. But the peace couldn’t last.
On the fourth night, the phone in Nathan’s private office rang. It was an unlisted line, a number known only to three people in the entire country.
Nathan picked it up. "Speak."
"Russo," a voice said—cold, aristocratic, with a distinct New England accent that smelled of old money and generational corruption. "You've disrupted a very delicate supply chain. The assets you took from the Chicago harbor belonged to a syndicate that doesn't recognize your local mafia borders."
"You must be the buyer," Nathan said, leaning back in his leather chair and turning his silver ring around his finger.
"I am the representative of the buyers," the voice corrected. "Let’s be reasonable, Nathan. You’re a businessman. You understand asset depreciation. The mother is irrelevant to us now; she can be disposed of. But the twins are a specific request for a foreign estate. Deliver them to the private hangar at Midway Airport by midnight, and we will credit your offshore accounts with five million dollars. Refuse, and we will dismantle the Russo family piece by piece, starting with your little cafe on the corner."
Nathan listened to the threat with the patience of a judge listening to a guilty verdict. "You think because you have a fancy accent and an offshore bank account, you're different from the street thugs I kill every Tuesday?"
"We are very different, Mr. Russo. We own the people who write your laws."
"Maybe," Nathan said softly. "But you don't own the rain in Chicago. And you don't own me. If you send anyone near Bellini’s, or near that family, I won't just kill your couriers. I will take every dollar you have in those offshore accounts and use it to buy the names of every person on your board of directors. And then I’ll visit them personally."
Nathan slammed the receiver down before the voice could respond. He looked up at Caleb, who was already waiting by the door.
May you like
"They're coming tonight, aren't they?" Caleb asked.
"They're going to try," Nathan said, standing up and pulling his coat off the rack. "They think they're playing a game of chess. They don't realize I’ve already burned the board."
