Chapter 14 - Hostage of the High Line
Z
The blizzard intensified over Chicago, blanketed the metropolis in two feet of blinding white snow by Thursday evening. While Alessandro, Marcus, and the federal tactical team conducted the clandestine extraction operation in Wisconsin to liberate Elena’s daughter, I remained locked inside the penthouse of the Vitali Tower with baby Leo and a heavy contingent of private security.
The penthouse was supposed to be an impenetrable fortress. The elevators required triple biometric authorization, the emergency stairwells were reinforced with blast-proof steel doors, and our private power grid ran on independent geothermal generators.
I sat in the nursery, holding Leo against my chest, humming a lullaby while the wind howled like a wounded animal against the thick glass windows.
Suddenly, the lights flickered twice. Then the room plunged into pitch-black darkness.
The soft hum of the nursery monitors died. The soothing lullaby speaker fell silent.
Instantly, the emergency red backup lights bathed the hallway in an eerie, blood-colored glow. Downstairs, the sharp, staccato crack of suppressed gunfire shattered the stillness of the penthouse.
My heart vaulted into my throat. "Liam!"
The nursery door burst open. Liam rushed in, holding a tactical shotgun, his face streaked with sweat. "They cut the main power trunk and bypassed the biometric grid using an internal maintenance override. Julian’s private mercenaries are on the floor."
"How did they get past thirty security guards in the lobby?" I whispered, pulling Leo’s baby carrier tight against my chest, securing the straps around my shoulders.
"They didn't come from the lobby," Liam said grimly, racking the slide of the shotgun. "They came from the construction crane on the roof of the adjacent tower. They blew the skylight in the penthouse solarium. We have to get to the panic room in the sub-vault."
Another volley of gunfire erupted at the end of the hallway, followed by the heavy thud of a body collapsing. Marcus’s second-in-command was shouting orders over the crackling radio before his voice was cut off by static.
"Move! Now!" Liam commanded, pushing me behind him as we darted out of the nursery into the dimly lit corridor.
The air in the hallway smelled of cordite, shattered plaster, and cold winter air rushing in through the compromised roof. We moved toward the private service stairwell when three men in tactical gear, wearing black balaclavas and bearing the Moretti serpent insignia on their tactical vests, rounded the corner.
"Drop the weapon!" one of the mercenaries shouted in accented English, raising his submachine gun.
Liam didn't hesitate. He fired a deafening blast from the shotgun, driving the lead mercenary back against the wall. The second man returned fire, bullets chewing through the drywall inches above my head, raining plaster dust down onto my hair and shoulders. I threw myself against the floor, curling my body completely around baby Leo, shielding his fragile frame with my own spine. Leo began to wail, terrified by the thunderous noise.
"Elizabeth, get down the stairs!" Liam screamed, firing another round down the corridor as spent shells clattered against the marble floor. "Go! I’ll hold the door!"
"I’m not leaving you, Liam!"
"Go protect your son!" Liam yelled, kicking the heavy steel stairwell door open and shoving me through. "I’ve spent eight years keeping you alive. I’m not stopping now!"
Liam slammed the heavy fire door shut behind me, locking the magnetic deadbolt from the inside to block the mercenaries from following. Through the reinforced steel, I could hear the terrifying symphony of gunfire and shouted curses.
Tears streaming down my face, I sprinted down the concrete stairs in the red emergency light, holding Leo tightly against my chest. Every maternal instinct burned like wildfire in my veins. For eight years, I had run from monsters in the dark. But as I reached the fortieth floor landing, the heavy fire door in front of me was kicked open with brutal force.
Standing in the doorway, drenched in snow and holding a sleek silver automatic pistol, was Julian Moretti.
"Going somewhere, sister-in-law?" Julian smiled, his green eyes glittering with manic triumph in the red light.
"Get away from my baby," I growled, backing toward the concrete railing of the high stairwell.
"Such maternal devotion," Julian mockingly applauded, stepping toward me with measured, deadly confidence. "Alessandro thought he was clever sending his little strike team to Wisconsin. What he didn't realize is that my men in Lake Geneva were merely bait to draw his security away from the real prize."
Julian raised his weapon, aiming it directly at my forehead. "Hand over the child, Elizabeth. You sign the full power of attorney transferring the Hart-Vitali trust to Moretti Holdings, or I drop you both over this railing."
I looked down at the forty-story drop beneath the stairwell, then back at Julian’s cold, arrogant face. I reached behind my back, slipping my fingers into the waistband of my slacks where I had concealed Alessandro’s spare snub-nosed revolver.
"You made one critical mistake, Julian," I said, my voice steady, stripped of all terror.
Julian frowned slightly. "And what is that?"
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"You assumed I was just a waitress," I said.
Before Julian could pull the trigger, I dropped low, drew the revolver, and fired two deafening rounds directly into his right kneecap.
