Chapter 4 - The Chicago Ice
The safe room beneath the estate was a concrete bunker, but the sound of muffled gunfire still echoed through the vents, making Clarissa’s heart hammer against her ribs. She sat on the edge of a leather bench, her hands wrapped around a cup of untouched tea, her mind racing through the transaction codes she had memorized.
It wasn't just Arthur Cole.
The velocity of the money didn't stop at Cole Logistics. There was a third party—a silent partner within the federal task force itself who was preparing to sign the warrant for Marcus’s arrest the moment the final transfer cleared.
“I have to tell him,” Clarissa muttered, standing up.
“Ma’am, you need to stay down,” the guard at the door said.
“If Marcus kills Arthur Cole tonight, the trap springs,” Clarissa said, her voice sharp with authority. “The federal agent waiting on the outside will use the shootout to declare Marcus a domestic threat and freeze all his assets immediately. They want him to fight back!”
Before the guard could reply, the steel door of the safe room hissed open.
But it wasn't Marcus who stepped through.
It was Paige, Clarissa’s former friend from the club, her face pale and tear-stained, accompanied by two men in tactical gear with earpieces. The guard at the door didn't even have time to raise his weapon before one of the tactical men fired a silenced round, dropping him to the floor.
Clarissa gasped, backing away against the concrete wall.
“I’m sorry, Clarissa,” Paige sobbed, her hands shaking. “Samantha’s father… he has my family’s debts. They said if I didn't help them get you out of the estate, they’d ruin us. They need the flash drive with your audit files. Without it, they can't delete the evidence connecting them to the feds.”
“You sold me out,” Clarissa said, her voice dropping into a cold, dangerous whisper that sounded remarkably like Marcus’s. “For money.”
“Everyone has a price, Clarissa,” one of the tactical men sneered, stepping forward and grabbing her by the arm. He pulled her roughly toward the exit. “And your monster isn't going to save you this time. The ice on the lake is thick enough to hold a body until spring.”
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Clarissa didn't scream. She didn't fight. She let them drag her out into the cold, rainy night, her mind working at triple speed. She had built her entire life on being the smart one, the one who calculated the risks.
And right now, she was calculating exactly how long it would take Marcus Thorne to realize she was gone—and what he would do to the city when he found out.
