Chapter 16 - The End of Nikolai
The cleanup of the estate was swift and brutal. The surviving mercenaries were executed and dumped in the river; the wounded were interrogated by Caruso until they gave up Nikolai’s actual location—a secure penthouse in the West Loop.
At dawn, Marco stood in the bedroom, dressed in a fresh charcoal suit, pulling a pair of black leather gloves over his hands. He looked every inch the most feared man in Chicago—cold, immaculate, and entirely devoid of mercy.
Lena stood by the doorway, wearing one of his heavy cashmere sweaters, her arm resting in a simple sling. "Is this the end of it?"
Marco paused, turning to face her. "Nikolai is the last piece. When he falls, the Solntsevskaya syndicate in this city is dead. There will be no one left to order a hit."
He walked over to her, stopping inches away. He reached out, his gloved finger tracing the line of her jaw with surprising gentleness. "I have lived my entire life in violence, Lena. It is all I know how to do. But when I walk out that door today, I am not fighting for territory. I am not fighting for pride."
He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers—a soft, hesitant contact that sent a jolt of electricity through both of them. It was a promise signed in breath and heartbeat.
"I am fighting so I can come home to you," Marco murmured against her lips.
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Lena breathless in the quiet morning light.
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Six hours later, the local news broadcast reported a massive gas explosion at a luxury penthouse in the West Loop. Authorities confirmed that Russian billionaire Nikolai Voronov and six of his associates had perished in the blast. No suspects were named. The police called it an industrial accident.
The city knew better. The king of Chicago had defended his throne.
