Chapter 14 - Ashes to Justice
The hallway fell instantly into a terrified, breathless paralysis.
Even the wounded mercenaries froze, their eyes fixed on the blinking red LED light glowing on Cross’s chest rig.
Director Vance, who had paused at the end of the corridor, stopped dead in her tracks.
“Cross, you lunatic!” Vance shouted.
“Detonating that switch will bury you under ten million tons of federal granite!”
“I don't care!” Cross laughed hysterically, spattering blood across his pristine shirt collar.
“If I don't own Chicago, nobody does!”
“Luca! Grace!” Cross screamed, locking his wild eyes onto us.
“Say goodbye to your precious heritage!”
His thumb began to press downward toward the red button.
My mind raced with blinding speed.
I remembered the sniper in the alley.
I remembered the grease on the dumbwaiter ropes.
I remembered my father’s calm voice telling me that true strength isn't about weapons; it's about finding the hidden flaw in the machine.
I didn't shoot at the vest.
I didn't aim for his chest.
With a flick of my wrist, I aimed low and fired a single, calculated shot directly at the brass belt buckle holding Cross’s heavy trousers in place.
The bullet struck the brass buckle with a sharp ping, shattering the clasp.
Without its belt support, the heavy industrial plastic explosive vest instantly sagged down around Cross’s knees with a heavy, humiliating thud.
Cross gasped, his balance failing as he tried to catch the falling rig with his hands.
Before his thumb could complete the downward press, Luca closed the distance in a ferocious blur of motion.
Luca’s boot slammed squarely into Cross’s chest, sending the syndicate boss flying backward across the marble floor.
The dead-man’s switch slipped from Cross’s trembling fingers, skittering across the floorboards into Dante’s waiting hands.
Dante immediately plugged the override cable into the digital trigger, neutralizing the circuit with a crisp beep.
Cross lay flat on his back, staring up at the fluorescent lights with empty, defeated eyes.
Federal marshals descended upon him instantly, slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists and hauling him upright.
“It’s over, Julian,” Luca said coldly, looking down at his former business partner.
“Your empire is gone.”
“Your accounts are frozen.”
“And your legacy is finished.”
Cross didn't answer.
He was dragged down the corridor toward the secure elevators, his head bowed in absolute disgrace.
Director Vance walked over to us, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.
“That was the most reckless, brilliant tactical move I have seen in twenty-five years of federal service, Ms. Parker,” Vance said, a wide smile breaking across her face.
“The warrants are fully executed.”
“Cross and Marco Bellini will stand trial for capital racketeering, financial fraud, and federal murder.”
“They will never see daylight again.”
Luca turned to look at me, the tension finally draining from his broad shoulders.
He reached out, taking my hand in his calloused palm.
May you like
“Come on, Grace,” Luca whispered softly.
“Let’s go tell your mother the good news.”
