Chapter 13 - The Wrath of Blackwood
When Damian returned to the penthouse and found it empty, the silence felt like a physical blow. When his radio crackled with the frantic, bleeding voice of Marcus reporting the breach, Damian Blackwood didn't panic.
He went completely, terrifyingly cold.
He arrived at the park in ten minutes. His men had already secured the area. Damian found Leo huddled in the drainage pipe, crying hysterically.
“Leo,” Damian said softly, climbing into the mud and pulling the boy into a tight hug. “Are you hurt?”
“They took her!” Leo sobbed, gripping Damian’s suit jacket. “Harper ran away so they wouldn't see me, and they took her!”
Damian’s eyes turned pitch-black. The monster that Harper had tamed was unleashed, fully and without restraint. He handed Leo to his most trusted bodyguard. “Take him to the underground bunker. Lock it down. No one goes in or out.”
Damian stood up, pulling his sidearm. He looked at his gathered enforcers—fifty of the deadliest men in Chicago.
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“Alexei Volkov has made a fatal error,” Damian’s voice echoed over the park, devoid of any human emotion. “He took what is mine. We are not negotiating. We are not sending a message. We are going to slaughter every single man who stands under the Volkov banner until I have her back.”
The Chicago underworld would remember this night for decades. The night Damian Blackwood turned the streets to ash.
