Chapter 11 - The Aftermath on the Tarmac
The echoing crack of the gunshot was swallowed instantly by the roaring turbine engines of the idling jet. Viktor Sterling slumped forward against the cold aluminum fuselage of the cargo plane, sliding down into a dark puddle of melting ice and oil. His reign over the eastern shipping syndicate ended right there on the windswept tarmac of O’Hare.
Callum did not look down at the body. He turned his attention entirely to Sadie, who stood watching the scene with a quiet, unblinking composure that terrified him more than any rival capo ever could.
Sirens wailed in the distance—federal units finally responding to the gunfire, though under Don Lorenzo’s careful orchestration, they would arrive twenty minutes too late to interfere with the Russo family's business.
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“You shouldn’t have followed me out here, Sadie,” Callum said, stepping close enough that he could feel the radiating chill of her coat. “It was too dangerous.” “I’m not a fragile museum artifact you can lock away in a safehouse, Mr. Russo,” Sadie replied, her stormy gray eyes meeting his without a hint of fear or hesitation. She lifted her chin, the wind whipping her dark hair across her cheeks. “I helped you take down a transnational criminal syndicate. I think I’ve earned the right to see the end of it.”
Callum let out a slow breath that turned into a cloud of white vapor in the freezing night air. For the first time in his adult life, a genuine, uncalculated smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Come on,” Callum said softly, extending his gloved hand toward her. “Let’s go home.”
