Chapter 18 - Checkmate at the Voss Tower
At 11:58 PM, the sky above downtown Chicago was swallowed by dense fog.
The fifty-fifth floor of the Voss Tower was bathed in eerie red emergency lighting. Victor Marcone sat behind Adrian’s own executive desk, a cigar smoking in an ashtray, surrounded by twenty heavily armed mercenaries carrying automatic weapons trained on the central elevator doors.
On the desk sat a detonator.
“One minute, boys,” Marcone sneered, checking his gold Rolex. “The second the elevator bell rings, blow the doors and fire until the magazines are empty.”
Suddenly, the overhead sprinklers didn't spray water.
A deafening hiss echoed through the ventilation grates.
Dense, blinding white military-grade tear gas erupted from every ceiling vent, filling the executive suite in three seconds flat.
The mercenaries choked, coughing violently, their eyes burning as the chemical agent blinded them instantly.
“What is this?!” Marcone roared, gagging, drawing his pistol blindly. “Kill the air handlers! Shoot the doors!”
The elevator bell *dinged*.
The mercenaries fired frantically into the smoke, ripping the elevator doors to shreds with hundreds of rounds.
The doors slid open.
The elevator was completely empty.
Before Marcone could scream another order, the heavy double doors of the boardroom behind him were blown off their hinges by breaching charges.
Adrian Voss stepped through the smoke like a grim reaper.
He wore a gas mask and tactical body armor, his assault rifle barking in short, controlled bursts. Every shot found a target. Three mercenaries fell before they could raise their weapons. Julian and a tactical squad followed behind him, sweeping through the blinding fog with lethal efficiency, neutralizing the remaining guards in less than thirty seconds.
Marcone, half-blinded and choking, backed away toward the panoramic glass windows, his gun shaking in his hand.
“Voss!” Marcone screamed, firing wildly into the haze.
A shadow moved behind him.
The utility closet door swung open.
I stepped out, gas mask securely fastened, carrying an industrial carbon-dioxide fire extinguisher.
Before Marcone could turn, I swung the heavy steel cylinder with everything I had, slamming it directly into the side of his knee.
The bone snapped with a sickening *crack*.
Marcone screamed, collapsing to the floor, dropping his weapon.
Adrian stepped out of the smoke, ripping off his gas mask, tossing it aside. He walked over until the toe of his combat boot was pressed against Marcone’s throat, pinning the older man to the floor.
Adrian looked down at him with cold, terrifying disgust.
“You threatened a child, Victor,” Adrian whispered, his voice vibrating through the silent, smoke-filled room.
“Voss... please...” Marcone choked out, blood leaking from his lips. “The Syndicate... the council will kill you for this—”
“The council approved this twenty minutes ago,” Julian said from the doorway, holding up a phone showing the green seal of the Chicago High Commission. “They don't like business partners who target pediatric hospitals. Bad for PR.”
Adrian raised his gun, pointing it squarely between Marcone’s eyes.
Then he paused.
He looked over at me, standing a few feet away, chest heaving, the fire extinguisher still clutched in my hands.
“Maya,” Adrian said softly. “Do you want to leave the room?”
I looked at Victor Marcone—the man who had tried to enslave my family, who had put a target on my baby brother’s chest.
I took a deep, steady breath, lowered the extinguisher, and held Adrian’s gaze.
“No,” I said firmly. “Finish it.”
May you like
A single shot echoed through the shattered penthouse.
***