Chapter 6 - The Ghost Safehouse
The storm drain spit us out into a desolate industrial ditch near the rail yards three miles south of the estate.
Rain was pouring now, thick Chicago sleet that numbed the skin. I had discarded my soaked tactical jacket and wrapped it around Leo and Lucas. Elena had wrapped Nico in her woolen shawl, while Mateo walked right beside me through the sludge, refusing to be carried.
"Tough little bastard," I muttered under my breath, watching him trudge through ankle-deep mud without a single complaint.
"He gets that from you," Elena whispered through chattering teeth.
I pulled an untraceable satellite phone from a waterproof pocket and dialed a single number I had memorized fifteen years ago.
"Speak," came a raspy, gravelly voice on the third ring.
"The nest is compromised, Julian. Eagle has fallen. I need the Ghost House."
A long pause on the other end. Julian Alvarez was my family's private physician and an old black-ops field medic who had stitched up three generations of Morettis. He answered to no syndicate, took no bribes, and lived entirely off the grid.
"It's prepped, Alejandro. North shore of Lake Geneva. No digital footprint, fully armored. Who's with you? Marco?"
"Marco is under suspicion," I replied cold-bloodedly. "I am with Elena. And four assets."
"Assets?"
"My sons, Julian."
The line went completely dead for five full seconds.
May you like
"God help Chicago," Julian whispered. "I'll be there in two hours with medical gear."
***