Chapter 9 - THE SHADOW’S RETURN
Despite the peace that had settled over Hawthorne Estate, the ghosts of the past rarely stayed buried without one final gasp.
On a rainy Thursday evening in November, Adrian sat in his private study reviewing the architectural plans for a new children's hospital wing he was funding in downtown Chicago.
The private landline on his desk rang.
It was an encrypted line that only three people in the world possessed the number to. One was Dominic. One was Vincent DeLuca.
The third was a ghost.
Adrian picked up the receiver, holding it to his ear without speaking.
“You look comfortable in your fortress, Adrian,” a raspy, familiar voice whispered through the static.
Adrian’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.
“Marcus,” Adrian said coldly.
A bitter, wheezing laugh sounded over the line. Marcus Hale had survived the execution six months ago. He had taken two bullets to the shoulder, fallen into the river, and drifted downstream before being pulled out by an illegal smuggling boat bound for Canada. He had spent six months hiding in the cold woods, nursing his ruined body and burning with insane, obsessive vengeance.
“Did you really think you could just play family, Adrian?” Marcus hissed, his voice laced with unhinged malice. “Did you really think you could turn the Cross empire into a charity project and forget who you are?”
“You’re a dead man, Marcus,” Adrian said calmly, his voice dropping into that terrifying, icy register. “You’re calling from a burner phone in northern Indiana. I already have your location being traced.”
“Trace it all you want, brother!” Marcus laughed wildly. “It doesn't matter where I am! It matters where my men are!”
Adrian froze. His dark eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.
8:45 p.m.
Grace and Lily were returning from a charity gala at the Milwaukee Art Museum. Their motorcade was currently traveling south along the dark, isolated stretch of Interstate 94 near the state line.
“I know her route, Adrian,” Marcus whispered venomously. “I knew her route three days ago. Your head of street operations, Dominic... he’s good. But he’s not as good as I was.”
“If you touch them, Marcus—”
“I’m not going to touch them,” Marcus sneered. “My men are going to run their SUV off the road into the lake. You’re going to lose your precious little daughter just like you lost your mind.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Adrian didn't waste a single second. He slammed the receiver down, grabbed his heavy leather jacket and his custom SIG Sauer pistol, and stormed out of the study into the main hallway.
“DOMINIC!” Adrian roared, his voice echoing through the vast stone corridors like thunder.
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Dominic came running up the stairs, three guards right behind him. “Boss! What happened?!”
“Marcus is alive,” Adrian barked, sprinting toward the private garage elevator. “He ambushed Grace’s motorcade on I-94 near the state line! Get every vehicle we have! NOW!”
