Raven's POV
Everything happens at once.
Marco's gun aims at Raven's head. Dante's gun swings toward Marco. Luca's bodyguards draw weapons. Thomas Chen screams and runs. The room explodes into chaos.
"Drop it, Dante, or she dies!" Marco's voice is steady, cold. "I've got nothing to lose now."
"You pull that trigger, you're dead," Dante says, his own gun unwavering.
"So? Voss is paying me three million to deliver you both. Dead or alive." Marco's finger tightens on the trigger. "He really wants you, Dante. And your little detective girlfriend here? She's worth double."
Sirens wail outside—getting closer.
"Marco, you son of a—" Luca starts.
"Shut up, old man!" Marco backs toward the door, gun still on Raven. "Everyone stays exactly where they are or I paint the walls with her brain."
Raven's entire body trembles. She can see down the barrel of his gun—black and endless and promising death.
Dante's eyes meet hers. She sees calculation there. A decision being made.
Then he mouths two words: Drop. Now.
Raven throws herself to the floor.
Gunshots explode—deafening in the enclosed space. She covers her head, ears ringing, heart hammering so hard she can't breathe.
When silence falls, she looks up.
Marco is dead—three bullets in his chest. Dante's gun is still raised, smoke curling from the barrel. His face is emotionless, like he just swatted a fly instead of killing a man.
"Everyone out," Luca commands. "Police are ninety seconds away. Move!"
Chaos erupts. Men grab documents, weapons, evidence. The room empties in seconds. Dante pulls Raven to her feet.
"Can you run?" he asks.
She nods, mute with shock.
"Then run."
They sprint through back corridors. Adrian appears from nowhere, leading them to a hidden exit. They burst into an alley just as police cars screech to a stop at the warehouse's front entrance.
"This way!" Adrian hisses.
They run through back streets, over fences, through abandoned buildings. Raven's lungs burn but terror keeps her moving. Behind them, shouts and sirens chase like hunting dogs.
Finally, Adrian leads them into a parking garage. A different car waits—blue sedan, completely normal, invisible.
"Get in," Adrian orders.
They pile in. Adrian drives calmly, obeying every traffic law, looking like any normal person heading home from work. Police cars race past them toward the warehouse, sirens screaming.
Nobody notices the blue sedan.
Twenty minutes later, they pull into an underground parking structure beneath a luxury apartment building. Adrian parks and kills the engine.
"We're clear. For now." He looks at Dante in the rearview mirror. "That was close, boss."
"Too close." Dante's jaw clenches. "Marco was with us for eight years. I trusted him."
"Voss pays well. Three million is hard to refuse."
"He said I was worth three million. Raven was worth double." Dante looks at her with something like concern. "Why would Voss pay six million for a disgraced detective?"
Raven's mind races. "I don't know. I wasn't that important. I was just—"
"Just what?" Adrian turns around, studying her. "Just a regular detective? Or did you know something you're not telling us?"
"I didn't know anything! Marcus framed me before I could even report what I found!"
"What exactly did you find?" Dante's voice is sharp. "You said you discovered Marcus's offshore accounts. What else?"
Raven's throat tightens. "There were files on his computer. Names, dates, payments. I didn't have time to read everything before he deleted it all. I only saw fragments."
"What kind of names?"
"Politicians. Judges. Police commissioners." Her voice drops. "And one name that didn't make sense. Someone called 'The Architect.' Marcus had an email thread with them, but it was heavily encrypted. I couldn't read it."
Dante and Adrian exchange looks.
"The Architect," Adrian breathes. "Boss, if she saw—"
"I know." Dante's face goes pale. "That's why Voss wants her so badly. She's seen proof he exists."
"Who's The Architect?" Raven asks.
"The person who built Voss's entire operation. The one pulling the strings behind everything—the bribes, the trafficking, the murders. No one knows who The Architect is. Not even us." Dante runs his hand through his hair. "If you saw communication between Marcus and The Architect, you're the only living witness that person exists. That's why you're worth six million dollars dead."
Raven's blood turns to ice. "I barely saw anything. Just a name. I can't identify them."
"Doesn't matter. They don't know that. They'll assume you know everything." Adrian's expression is grim. "She's a dead woman walking, boss. The Architect will send every killer in Chicago after her."
"Not if we find The Architect first." Dante's eyes burn with sudden intensity. "Raven—close your eyes. Picture that email thread. What else did you see? Any detail, no matter how small."
Raven squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to remember that terrible day. Marcus's computer. The files she wasn't supposed to see. The email that made no sense.
"There was a signature at the bottom," she says slowly. "Something in Latin. 'Sic semper... something.'"
"'Sic semper tyrannis,'" Dante finishes. "Thus always to tyrants. It's what John Wilkes Booth said when he killed Abraham Lincoln."
"Why would someone use that as a signature?"
"Because The Architect sees himself as a liberator. Someone who kills tyrants." Dante's laugh is bitter. "Whoever this is, they think they're a hero. Just like I did."
Adrian pulls up something on his phone. "Boss, I've been tracking that phrase through dark web forums. Three people in Chicago use it regularly. Want to guess who one of them is?"
"Who?"
"Benjamin Cross. Your lawyer cousin. The one who just sold you out to police."
The car goes silent.
"Benjamin is The Architect?" Dante's voice is deadly quiet.
"Not confirmed, but likely. He has access to everything—your accounts, your properties, your movements. He could've been feeding information to Voss for years." Adrian shows them the phone. "And look at this. Benjamin just purchased a one-way ticket to Switzerland. Flight leaves in four hours."
"He's running." Dante's hands curl into fists. "He betrayed me, tried to have me arrested, and now he's running before I can retaliate."
"We can catch him at the airport," Adrian suggests.
"No. Too public. Too many witnesses." Dante's eyes meet Raven's. "But I know where he'll go first. There's something he needs to collect before he leaves the country. Something worth more than money."
"What?"
"Evidence. Insurance. Benjamin is smart—he'd never run without leverage against Voss, against me, against everyone. He has files hidden somewhere that prove The Architect's identity and operations. Files that would destroy everyone involved."
Raven's detective instincts kick in. "Where would he hide something that valuable?"
"The one place I'd never think to look. The one place that would hurt me most." Dante's voice breaks slightly. "My family's old house. The place where my parents were murdered. Benjamin's been managing the property for years. I never visit. Never wanted to. Perfect hiding spot."
"So we go there," Raven says. "Get the files before he does. Prove he's The Architect and bring him down."
"It's a trap," Adrian warns. "Benjamin knows you'd figure it out eventually. He'll have people waiting."
"I don't care." Dante's steel-blue eyes burn with rage and pain. "He used my family's death as a hiding place for his crimes. He's been profiting off their murders for years. I'm going to make him pay."
They drive to an old neighborhood—the kind that used to be nice but slowly rotted. The house sits at the end of a dead-end street. Dark. Abandoned. Haunted.
Dante stares at it like it might bite him.
"Twenty years," he whispers. "I haven't been here in twenty years."
Raven takes his hand. "You don't have to do this. Adrian and I can—"
"No. I have to face it." He squeezes her hand. "Stay behind me. If shooting starts, run. Understand?"
"I'm not leaving you."
"Raven—"
"You saved my life twice today. I'm not leaving." She meets his eyes. "We're in this together now. Partner, remember?"
Something shifts in Dante's expression—surprise, then warmth, then determination.
"Partner," he agrees.
They approach the house. Adrian checks for guards, finds none. The front door is unlocked—too easy, definitely a trap.
Inside, everything is frozen in time. Dusty furniture. Family photos on walls. Children's toys still scattered on the floor from twenty years ago.
Dante's breathing goes ragged. "The kitchen. That's where they died. Where I hid in the pantry and listened to them beg."
"You don't have to—"
"I do." He walks forward like he's underwater.
They enter the kitchen. Even in darkness, Raven can see old bloodstains on the floor—impossible to fully clean, permanent ghosts.
Dante falls to his knees, shaking.
"They were just having dinner," he whispers. "My mom made lasagna. My sister spilled juice on her dress. Dad was laughing about something. Then the door crashed open and Vincent Moretti walked in with a gun and—"
A voice cuts through the darkness.
"How touching. The prodigal nephew returns."
Lights flood on, blinding them.
Benjamin Cross stands in the doorway, flanked by six armed men. He looks nothing like the professional lawyer Raven saw in photos. He looks like a predator who finally caught his prey.
"Hello, Dante," Benjamin says with a smile. "I've been waiting for you to come home. We have so much to discuss. Starting with how I've been building an empire on your family's graves—and how you're going to die in the exact same spot your parents did."
He raises his gun.
"Welcome home, cousin. Now join your family in hell."