Vengeance #2
They'd walked nearly six miles before stopping. The mountains swallowed them whole. The narrow game trail disappeared beneath towering spruce trees, and a small cave tucked beneath a limestone outcropping offered enough shelter for the night. It wasn't much, but it would keep them hidden.
Chloe sat beside a tiny smokeless fire, wrapped in one of the emergency blankets they'd salvaged before abandoning the cabin.
Her wet hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she looked exhausted.
Vengeance knelt several yards away, methodically cleaning his pistol.
His hands worked automatically, even though his mind didn't. He could only think about his mother still being alive.
He'd replayed those few seconds at the creek in his mind a hundred times already. She looked directly at him, and she warned him before she lied to Dante's face. Why had she done that? A twig snapped behind him, and his pistol appeared in his hand before he consciously reached for it.
"Easy." Chloe froze with a cup of instant coffee halfway to her lips.
"You almost gave me a heart attack,” he said. "You were too quiet."
"I've been sitting here the whole time,” Chloe reminded.
He slowly lowered the weapon. "Sorry."
She walked over and crouched beside him. "You've apologized six times today."
"I have?" he asked.
"You keep drifting away," she said.
He looked toward the fire. "I know."
She gently took the pistol from his hands and laid it beside her. "Talk to me."
He laughed quietly. "You really don't give up."
"Nope,” she breathed. "You've been trying to figure everything out by yourself."
"I usually do,” he said.
"You don't have to anymore." The simple statement settled somewhere deep inside him. He wanted to believe it. God, he wanted to.
"My whole life changed today."
"I know."
"I buried my mother years ago,” he said.
"You buried the woman Dante wanted you to believe was your mother." He frowned. “But you didn't bury the truth." She rested her shoulder against his. "You buried one of Dante's lies." He stared at her. She always had a way of making things sound simpler than they felt.
"I don't know how to stop him,” he said.
"You already have."
He blinked. "How do you figure?” he asked.
"You don't believe you're like him anymore. You’ve already beat him at his own game."
His chest tightened. "You helped me do that."
"I reminded you who you really are,” she said.
"No." He smiled faintly. "You dragged me kicking and screaming back to reality."
"I absolutely did." She bumped his shoulder. "And I'll do it again if I have to." For the first time since the helicopters arrived, Vengeance laughed.
“I like it when you laugh,” she said. “You remind me who you really are.”
“Who am I, Chloe?” he asked.
“You’re the guy I fell in love with."
His heart stumbled. "You make everything sound easy."
"It isn't." She reached for his hand. "I’m terrified."
"You never show it,” he assured.
"I didn't want you thinking I'd changed my mind about you,” she teased.
"You could have, and I wouldn’t have blamed you."
She shook her head. "Never." Silence settled comfortably between them. The fire crackled softly. Owls called somewhere deeper in the forest. It almost felt peaceful.
Vengeance pulled the folded map from his pocket. It was the one the old man they met beneath the bridge had stolen from the bounty meeting. He spread it across a flat rock. Red circles covered half the eastern United States, marking gas stations, truck stops, safe houses, and supply routes.
Chloe leaned closer. "You've been looking at that all day."
"Something's wrong,” Vengeance said.
"What?"
He pointed toward Chicago. "Nothing is circled here."
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
"If Elena was running the operation—” He tapped the map. "Chicago would've been marked."
"But it isn't."
"No, it’s not.”
She studied the map over his shoulder. "So whoever organized the bounty on you wasn't operating out of Chicago." He pointed farther east. "Pittsburgh." He pointed to another mark. "Columbus." He ran his finger south. "Charleston." And finally, he stopped on the last red circle. "Washington."
Chloe looked at him. "D.C.?"
He nodded slowly. "The money moved through Chicago."
"But the operation was being directed from Washington." They looked at each other simultaneously. "Someone bigger is running things," Chloe whispered.
"Much bigger,” he agreed. A chill settled over him. Dante had never wanted power; he wanted control. There was a difference. Whoever sat above his father wanted both.
A low whistle drifted through the trees and Vengeance's pistol was back in his hand instantly. Chloe reached for hers, and three short whistles floated over the air, followed by two more. It was Bowie’s emergency signal.
Vengeance answered with the matching pattern, and seconds later, a shadow stepped from the darkness.
It wasn’t Bowie. It was Dallas. She looked exhausted, was covered in mud, and was wearing black beneath a leather jacket, as though she was still in mourning.
The instant Chloe saw her, she ran to her. "Mom!" Dallas caught her in a fierce embrace, and for several long moments, neither woman spoke. They simply held each other. Vengeance quietly stood back, giving them space.
Dallas looked over Chloe's shoulder, and her eyes found him. "You kept your promise."
"I said I would." She nodded, and surprised him when she crossed the remaining distance and hugged him. Vengeance froze. No one had hugged him unexpectedly, except maybe Chloe.
"You brought my little girl back to me."
His throat tightened. "She's the one who kept me alive."
Dallas smiled through her tears. "That sounds like her."
Chloe laughed softly. "Mom."
Dallas stepped back, and her expression immediately became serious. "We don't have much time."
"What happened?" Chloe asked.
Dallas looked toward Vengeance. "Bowie sent me." Something about her tone immediately put him on edge.
"What is it?" he asked. She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a weathered envelope with Savage's handwriting covering the front.
For Vengeance.
His pulse stopped. "I already got Savage's letter."
Dallas slowly shook her head. "No." She handed him the envelope. "This one wasn’t in Doc's lockbox."
He carefully opened it, and inside, he found a single photograph of Savage, Doc, and a beautiful blonde woman—his mother, Elena. She was standing beside a little dark-haired boy of about five—Vengeance. His knees nearly gave out. On the back, Savage had written only one sentence.
If you're reading this, Elena finally came home. Trust her.
Vengeance stared at the words until they blurred. "It can’t be,” he breathed.
Dallas nodded sadly. "We found it hidden inside Savage's old toolbox." His mind raced. Savage had known for years, and he trusted Elena enough to leave Vengeance that message—enough to bet everything on it.
Vengeance slowly folded the letter and looked toward the dark mountains stretching east—toward Chicago and the answers waiting there for him. He holstered his pistol. "We're done running. It’s time to go to Chicago."
Dallas nodded. "Bowie said you'd say that."
"What did he tell you?"
She smiled. "He said once you learned the truth—” Her smile became unmistakable.
“You'd start the war yourself." And for the first time in his life, Vengeance realized he wasn't fighting simply to survive anymore.
He was fighting to finish what Savage, Doc, and Elena had started over twenty years ago. Dante's empire was about to fall.
It was true what they said about Chicago—it seemed to never sleep.
Even at two in the morning, headlights streamed through rain-slicked streets while trains rumbled overhead, and distant sirens echoed between towering buildings.
Vengeance hated every second of being in the city.
He hated Chicago even more because he was sure that the city had stolen his childhood when his mom moved there.
But tonight, he intended to take his life back.
He stood in the shadows across from an abandoned church on the South Side, his eyes scanning every rooftop, alley, and parked vehicle.
The building looked forgotten, its stained-glass windows shattered years ago and ivy climbing the cracked stone walls.
Savage's final note had included only an address with no explanation, and no instructions. He was sure that was the place where he’d find his mother and the answers he had been looking for.
Chloe slipped up beside him, dressed head-to-toe in black. She carried herself with the quiet confidence she'd earned over the past several months. Gone was the sheltered girl who'd relied on everyone else to protect her. She'd become as dangerous as him.
"You've checked that rooftop six times," she whispered.
"There are two shooters,” he said.
She followed his gaze. "I only see one."
"The second one doesn't want to be seen, but he’s there,” Vengeance insisted.
She smiled faintly. "I'll take your word for it."
He reached for her hand. "You don't have to come with me."
She squeezed his fingers. "I was never letting you walk into this alone."
A soft chuckle drifted from behind them.
"I hoped you'd say that." Vengeance and Chloe both drew their pistols as an older man stepped from the darkness with both hands raised.
He was wearing an expensive suit that had seen better days.
His hair was gray and his face, weathered from time and a life well lived.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoot me,” the man said.
Vengeance didn't lower his weapon. "That depends on you answering a few questions for me. What’s your name?”
"Gabriel,” the man said.
"How about your last name?” Vengeance asked.
"I stopped using it twenty years ago."
"That's not a good enough answer,” he said.