Chapter 6 - Breach of the Fortress
The name Commission froze my finger on the trigger.
The Chicago Commission—the ruling board of the five major families that controlled the Midwest underground. If Marcus had conspired with the Commission, killing him here and now wouldn't solve my problems; it would trigger an all-out turf war while my son lay dying upstairs.
I slowly lowered the barrel of the gun, though I kept it aimed at Marcus's chest.
"Talk," I commanded, glaring at Elena. "What do you mean, an antidote?"
Elena stepped between me and Marcus, her face resolute. She turned to Marcus, her eyes flashing with cold fury. "Tell him, Marcus. Tell him what you traded for the syndicate’s backing."
Marcus slumped back into his leather chair, trembling uncontrollably. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. "It was... it was Dr. Pierce," he whispered.
My jaw tightened so hard my teeth ached. "The lead pediatrician. The man treating my son."
"He's on the Commission's payroll," Marcus confessed, staring at the floor. "They knew Matteo was the heir. They knew that if Matteo died, you would go to war out of grief, destabilizing the entire territory. They wanted a puppet in your chair. Pierce didn't just let Matteo get sick—he was administering micro-doses of a slow-acting compound during every routine blood draw, making it look like congenital heart failure."
The pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity. No wonder Dr. Pierce had insisted so coldly that nothing could save him. No wonder he had given Matteo exactly fourteen days to live—because that was the precise timeline for the neurotoxin to finish its work.
"Where is Pierce now?" I demanded, grabbing Marcus by the lapels of his ruined suit and hoisting him out of the chair.
"He's... he's at St. Jude's Memorial. On call tonight," Marcus gasped.
Before I could answer, a deafening explosion shook the foundations of the Moretti estate.
Boom!
The lights flickered and died, plunging the East Wing into pitch blackness, save for the amber emergency strips along the baseboards. Outside, the sharp, rapid-fire pop of automatic weapons echoed across the courtyards.
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"Breach!" Tony’s voice roared over the encrypted comms earpiece in my ear. "East Gate is compromised! Armed mercenaries—heavy assault gear! They’re coming through the perimeter!"
The Commission hadn't waited for Marcus to report back. They had sent a cleaning crew to wipe out the entire estate, starting with the heir and ending with me.
