Chapter 7 - The Debts of the Past Come Due
The safehouse was an unmarked brick warehouse tucked deep into the industrial railyards of Back of the Yards, smelling of old rust, diesel fuel, and damp concrete.
Inside the reinforced office, a single brass lamp cast a harsh yellow circle over a heavy mahogany desk.
Evelyn sat in a leather armchair that was far too big for her, a steaming mug of black coffee cradled between her trembling hands. Her apron was gone, replaced by an oversized Moretti Syndicate windbreaker that smelled faintly of expensive cologne and gun oil.
The heavy steel door swung open, and Lorenzo walked in, removing his leather gloves and tossing them onto the desk. His suit jacket was missing, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, corded forearms covered in faint, jagged scars.
He poured two fingers of amber bourbon into a heavy crystal glass, took a slow sip, and looked down at her.
“The Obsidian is gone,” Lorenzo said quietly. “Insurance will call it a catastrophic gas leak. The city inspectors will sign off on it by morning because half of them owe my syndicate money.”
“And Celeste?” Evelyn asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Celeste and her father are currently enjoying a very uncomfortable midnight ride in the trunk of a Lincoln,” Lorenzo replied without a trace of emotion. “By dawn, they’ll be boarding a cargo freighter bound for a remote fishing village in South America with no phones, no money, and no last name. The Vane dynasty ended tonight.”
Evelyn looked down at her coffee, the dark liquid rippling slightly from the distant rumble of freight trains passing outside. “And me? What happens to the waitress who knew too much?”
Lorenzo pulled up a chair, sitting directly across from her so their eyes were level. The coldness in his gaze was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous: absolute, unyielding loyalty.
“Arthur Carter left this city owing me fifty thousand dollars,” Lorenzo said, his voice deep and steady. “His daughter just saved my life, dismantled a multi-million-dollar cartel hit, and proved she has more tactical sense than my entire board of directors.”
May you like
He slid a heavy, embossed black leather folder across the desk.
Evelyn opened it with trembling fingers. Inside wasn't a termination notice or a death warrant. It was a property deed to a fully renovated apartment complex in Lincoln Park, a zero-balance clearance on all her family’s old debts, and an employment contract naming her Chief Financial Auditor of Moretti Global Logistics, starting at a salary that made her head spin.
