Nico nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”
The SUV doors opened. Two men pulled Keane out.
He was not killed.
Not yet.
Instead, Keane vanished from public view for forty-eight hours while every hard drive in his office, his home, and his mistress’s condo was copied. Nico wanted evidence more than blood. That frightened his enemies more than torture would have.
Mercer, the alderman, tried to flee to Florida.
He made it as far as Midway.
By the time Roman realized how much of the board Nico intended to turn over instead of simply burning down, panic had entered the conspiracy.
That was when they came for Leah again.
It happened at 2:14 a.m. on a rainy Thursday.
Owen had gone home to shower. Frank was asleep in the family room chair with a blanket over his knees. A night nurse named Tasha was charting medications when a man in dark scrubs and a surgical cap entered Leah’s room carrying a clipboard.
He wore the right badge.
He moved like someone trained to seem ordinary.
But he made one mistake.
He closed the door too quietly.
Leah, drugged but not fully asleep, opened her eyes and saw him pull a syringe from his pocket.
Before she could shout, the bathroom door exploded inward.
Nico’s guard Mateo slammed the man into the wall so hard a framed print came loose and crashed to the floor. The syringe skidded under the bed. Tasha screamed. Frank woke in the hallway roaring like a wounded animal.
Within seconds the entire floor was chaos.
The intruder bit down on something before they could stop him.
Cyanide.
