Chapter 4 - The Waking Truth
Elena woke up three days later. The sterile smell of the convenience store street had been replaced by the scent of fresh linen and the faint aroma of roasted chicken. She panicked instantly, thrashing against the IV lines until a small, warm hand grabbed hers.
“Mom, stop. You’re pulling the tubes,” Leo said. He was sitting in a velvet armchair beside the bed, playing a video game on a brand-new tablet. He looked clean, well-fed, and significantly less burdened.
Elena froze, staring at her son. Then, she looked up to see Roman standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re safe, Elena,” Roman said softly.
Elena fell back against the pillows, tears finally spilling over her dark lashes. “He found me, Roman. Ten months ago. Marcus found me in Seattle.”
Roman pulled up a chair. “Doc Harrison said you had a puncture wound. Was that him?”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “He cornered me in an alley behind my work. He stabbed me, told me he was going to take Leo and make me watch him bleed. I managed to hit him with a brick and run. We’ve been running ever since.”
“Why?” Roman asked. “He thought you were dead. Why come after you now?”
“Because of what I took the night he killed your brother,” Elena whispered, her eyes meeting Roman’s. “I knew Marcus was going to run. I knew he needed capital. Before I fled, I broke into his safe. I took his primary ledger—the encrypted hard drive that contains every offshore account, every dirty politician on his payroll, and the routing numbers for a hundred million dollars of cartel cash.”
Roman’s breath hitched. “You’ve had his entire empire in your pocket for five years?”
“I didn't care about the money,” she sobbed. “It was insurance. But ten months ago, he somehow tracked the digital ping when I tried to transfer funds to pay for Leo’s asthma medication. He’s bankrupt, Roman. His cartel is falling apart without that money. He needs the drive.”
“Where is it?”
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Elena took a shaky breath. “Bus terminal locker in downtown Chicago. Locker 418. But Roman... his men are watching it. I tried to go back for it, but they’ve staked out the terminal. It’s a suicide mission.”
Roman stood up, a terrifying, predatory smile spreading across his face. “I don't believe in suicide missions, Elena. I believe in extermination.”
