The first vehicle stopped twenty yards away.
Then another.
And another.
Black sedans blocked the terminal exits.
Men emerged.
Some carried weapons.
Others wore police uniforms.
Elena stared.
"Those are cops."
"Some."
That was precisely the problem.
Judge Halston hadn't survived decades in Chicago by hiring ordinary criminals.
He had built legitimacy around corruption.
A detective could be more useful than a hitman.
A judge could destroy more lives than a gunman.
A politician could bury evidence beneath paperwork.
And for six years I had been looking in the wrong direction.
Luca moved beside me.
"We've got twelve men."
"They've got at least thirty."
"Suggestions?"
"Several."
"Good ones?"
"No."
Elena whispered, "The files."
I looked at her.
"Release them."
"We need time."
"Why?"
"Because Halston still believes he can contain this."
I understood.
The evidence was leverage only while he feared exposure.
Once released publicly, his only incentive would be eliminating witnesses.
"We hold."
A man stepped forward.
Not Halston.
Police Captain Raymond Cole.
His name appeared on Gabriel's drive.
"Matteo DeLuca!"
His amplified voice carried across the terminal.
"You and your associates are surrounded. Put down all weapons."
Adrian laughed from the ground.
"This is beautiful."
I looked at Luca.
"Did anyone contact police?"
"No."
Of course not.
Cole wasn't here to arrest us.
He was here to create an official story.
Dangerous organized-crime figure killed during armed confrontation.
Housekeeper caught in crossfire.
Traitor cousin unfortunately dies too.
Clean.
Simple.
Believable.
Elena moved closer.
"If we surrender?"
"They kill us later."
"And if we fight?"
"They call it justified."
I looked at her.
She wasn't panicking.
That impressed and terrified me equally.
"Can you trust anyone in law enforcement?" she asked.
One name came to mind.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Rachel Monroe.
We had been adversaries for four years.
She hated me professionally.
That made her useful.
Corrupt people usually tried to be my friends.
Monroe never had.
I handed Elena my phone.
"Contacts. Rachel Monroe."
"You know a federal prosecutor?"
"Unfortunately."
Elena called.
"Put it on speaker."
Monroe answered after three rings.
"DeLuca?"
"Rachel."
"It's midnight. People usually call me this late when they've committed crimes."
"I need your help."
Silence.
"Repeat that. I want to record it."
"Judge Robert Halston ordered the murders of Gabriel DeLuca and Sofia DeLuca six years ago."
The humor vanished.
"What?"
"I have financial records and an audio recording."
"Where are you?"
"Freight terminal near the South Branch."
"Don't move."
"We're surrounded by Captain Cole and approximately thirty armed officers who don't appear interested in due process."
Monroe cursed.
"Send me the files."
Elena did.
Monroe continued, "Can you stay alive twenty minutes?"
I looked around.
"Probably."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's the best I have."
The line ended.
Captain Cole shouted again.
"Final warning!"
I stepped into view, hands empty.
"You planning to arrest me, Raymond?"
"Get on your knees."
"For what charge?"
"Conspiracy. Weapons violations. Kidnapping."
I glanced at Elena.
"Kidnapping?"
She raised her voice.
"I'm not kidnapped!"
Cole ignored her.
"On your knees!"
I smiled.
"Rachel Monroe has Gabriel's files."
His expression changed.
Tiny.
But enough.
"Every financial record," I continued. "Every payment. Including yours."
Some officers looked at Cole.
Good.
Not all of them knew.
Corruption worked best in compartments.
"You have thirty seconds!" Cole shouted.
"No," I answered. "You do."
Then I heard sirens.
Different ones.
Federal vehicles poured onto the road.
Cole's men began shouting.
Chaos spread.
Nobody knew who had authority over whom.
FBI agents emerged.
Monroe stepped from an SUV wearing a winter coat over what looked suspiciously like pajamas.
She saw me.
"I hate you."
"Good evening to you too."
She pointed at everyone.
"Nobody shoots anybody!"
For several surreal minutes, rival law-enforcement groups argued while armed DeLuca men stood waiting.
Then FBI agents moved toward Captain Cole.
He reached for his weapon.
That was a mistake.
Three agents tackled him.
Within twenty minutes, the terminal belonged to federal authorities.
Adrian sat handcuffed inside an ambulance.
Salvatore received medical treatment.
And Elena stood beside me wrapped in a blanket someone had given her.
Monroe approached.
"You understand I'm still investigating you, right?"
"I'd be disappointed otherwise."
She looked at Elena.
"You're Elena Marlowe?"
"Yes."
"You may have just become the most important witness in Chicago."
Elena glanced at me.
"That's not comforting."
"No," Monroe agreed. "It rarely is."
Halston was arrested at four seventeen in the morning while attempting to board a private plane at Midway Airport.
His network didn't collapse immediately.
Networks never did.
But once federal investigators had Gabriel's records, prosecutors began connecting payments.
Bank accounts were frozen.
Search warrants executed.
Officials suspended.
The city awoke to scandal.
By sunrise, every television station in Chicago displayed Judge Robert Halston's photograph.
And for the first time in six years, the truth about Gabriel and Sofia began moving toward daylight.
But victory felt strange.
I returned to the estate with Elena after seven.
She stood in the foyer looking exhausted.
"I'm going to sleep for twelve years."
"You should."
She started upstairs.
"Elena."
She turned.
"You aren't working today."
"I assumed."
"Or tomorrow."
Her expression shifted.
"How long?"
"As long as necessary."
"Are you firing me?"
"No."
"Then what are you doing?"
I had no answer that didn't sound insane.
Protecting you.
Keeping you near me.
Preventing the world from taking another person I cared about.
Instead I said, "You need recovery."
She studied me.
"Matteo, the danger is mostly over."
"Mostly isn't enough."
Her shoulders dropped.
"This isn't about danger anymore."
"Of course it is."
"No."
She walked down two steps.
"This is about you being afraid."
I went still.
"I don't get afraid."
She almost smiled sadly.
"You were terrified last night."
"I was concerned."
"You yelled at me for driving into the SUV for ten straight minutes."
"You drove into an SUV."
"I know."
"You could have died."
"There."
"What?"
"That."
She came closer.
"You're afraid I'm going to die like Sofia."
My jaw tightened.
"Don't."
"Why?"
"Because you don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you slept five hours beside me after six years of barely sleeping."
"That means nothing."
The lie hurt both of us.
Elena looked away.
"Then maybe I should go home."
"No."
Her eyes returned.
"You just proved my point."
I couldn't breathe properly.
She reached into her pocket and placed something on the table.
Her employee keycard.
"I won't stay somewhere because someone is afraid to let me leave."
"Elena."
"I care about you."
Four words.
Nothing in my life had prepared me for them.
She continued quietly.
"Probably more than I should."
I said nothing.
"But I won't become another room you lock because you're afraid of losing what's inside."
Then she walked upstairs.
Two hours later, she left the estate.
I let her.
It was the hardest thing I'd done in years.
Luca found me in my office that afternoon.
"She's at her apartment."
"I didn't ask."
"No."
"Then why tell me?"
"Because you've checked your phone thirty times."
I glared.
He poured himself coffee.
"Permission to speak freely?"
"No."
"Excellent."
He sat.
"You're an idiot."
I looked at him.
"You've been working for me too long."
"Clearly."
He drank.
"Sofia wanted you to live."
"Don't use her."
"I'm not."
He pointed toward the hallway.
"You're using her."
My expression darkened.
"Careful."
"You built a mausoleum around yourself for six years. Then Elena walked into your bedroom by accident and suddenly you remembered you're human."
I said nothing.
"You think loving someone dishonors Sofia."
The word loving hit me harder than expected.
"I never said—"
"You don't need to."
He stood.
"There's a difference between replacing someone and continuing to live."
After he left, I sat alone.
At sunset, I entered Sofia's sitting room again.
This time without fear.
I sat beside her portrait.
And remembered the last argument.
"I don't need perfect, Matteo. I need you present."
At the time, I thought she meant leaving Chicago.
Maybe she meant something bigger.
I had spent six years thinking grief proved love.
Perhaps living could prove it too.
My phone buzzed.
Elena.
A message.
I found something in my mailbox.
My entire body went rigid.
I called immediately.
"What?"
Her voice shook.
"A photograph."
"Of what?"
"Me."
"When?"
"Today. Walking into my building."
Halston was arrested.
Adrian was in custody.
Cole was detained.
But somebody was still watching her.
"Lock your door."
"Matteo—"
"Now."
I was already moving.
"What else?"
"There are words on the back."
"What words?"
Her silence frightened me.
"Elena."
She whispered:
Halston wasn't the last one.
Then someone knocked on her apartment door.