Chapter 2 - The Shadows of ChicagoThe leather on the sofa in Lucas Valentasi’s penthouse felt too cold, too expensive, like everything else in this fortress overlooking Lake Michigan. Hannah clasped her hands around a cup of chamomile tea she hadn't touched. Outside, rain streaked down the floor-to-ceiling glass, blurring the neon city lights into smears of red and gold.
"He called himself Michael Vance," Hannah said, her voice barely audible over the hum of the climate control. "He told me his parents were retired teachers living in Vermont. He told me he loved old architecture because he wanted to build something that would outlast him."
Lucas stood by the window, his silhouette dark and immovable. His suit jacket was off, revealing the crisp white linen of his shirt and the leather shoulder holster strapped across his back. "Michael was always a dreamer, Miss Collins. But in our world, dreamers don't survive. He wanted to give you a fairytale because he knew his real life was a nightmare."
"Why didn't he just leave?" Hannah demanded, anger finally piercing through her shock. She stood up, her scuffed diner sneakers silent on the Persian rug. "If he loved me, if he hated what he was doing, why didn't he just walk away?"
Lucas turned slowly. The cold intensity in his dark eyes made her breath catch, but this time, she didn't look down. "Because you don't 'walk away' from the Syndicate, Hannah. You leave in a wooden box. Michael tried to play both sides. He thought he could be a mobster by night and a gentle architect's apprentice with you by day. The moment our father died, the Albanian syndicate—the Krasniqi clan—saw weakness. Michael tried to clean up a leak in our operation to prove he was worthy of the Valentasi name. He walked into an ambush."
"And you think I'm involved?"
"I know you aren't," Lucas replied smoothly, stepping closer. "My men ran a full background check on you the moment you stepped into my SUV. You’ve lived like a ghost for two years. You work twelve-hour shifts, you pay your rent in cash, you have no family, no debts, no criminal record. You're clean." He paused, his gaze dropping to the silver locket resting on the mahogany desk between them. "Which makes you the perfect leverage."
Before Hannah could process his words, the double doors of the office swung open without a knock. A tall woman with razor-sharp blonde hair and an immaculate navy pantsuit walked in. She carried a sleek tablet, her expression grim.
"Lucas," the woman said, ignoring Hannah entirely. "We have a problem. Marko Krasniqi just put out an inquiry through his street informants. Someone snapped a photo of you entering the Rosewood Diner tonight. By now, they know you picked up a girl."
Lucas didn't flinch. "How fast?"
"They’ll have her identity within two hours," she replied. "If they trace her back to Michael, they’ll assume he left something with her before he died. They’ll think she has the ledger."
Hannah looked between them, her chest tightening. "Ledger? What ledger? Michael didn't give me anything except that locket!"
Lucas walked to his desk and picked up the small silver oval. He pressed his thumb firmly against the inner rim, near the tiny photograph of Michael. A soft click echoed in the room. The backing of the photograph popped forward, revealing a microscopic, ultra-thin micro-SD card hidden in the hollow space behind the paper.
Hannah gasped, taking a step back. "I... I never knew that was in there. I swear to God, I never touched it!"
"I know," Lucas said quietly, his eyes fixed on the tiny piece of tech. "Michael hid his entire investigation into the Krasniqi mole inside this locket. He gave it to you for safekeeping without ever telling you what it was. He thought as long as you didn't know, you'd be safe."
"He was wrong," the blonde woman said coldly. "She’s a walking target now, Lucas. If Marko gets his hands on her, he’ll tear her apart to find out what she knows."
Lucas looked up from the card, his dark eyes locking onto Hannah. The cold, predator-like demeanor was still there, but beneath it, Hannah saw a flash of raw, protective instinct—the same fierce loyalty Michael had possessed.
"She stays with me," Lucas ordered.
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"Lucas, that's insane," the woman argued. "Bringing a civilian into the compound right now—"
"She is Michael's legacy, Victoria," Lucas interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with unquestionable authority. "My brother died protecting her. I won't let Marko Krasniqi finish what he started two years ago. Get a team to her apartment. Burn her paper trail. As of tonight, Hannah Collins no longer exists."
