Chapter 6 - SECRETS UNEARTHED
Two days passed in a tense, claustrophobic routine. Declan and Tommy spent hours on encrypted satellite phones, rallying the remnants of Declan’s loyal syndicate captains. The streets of Chicago were in chaos; the power vacuum left by Declan’s sudden disappearance had sparked minor turf wars, but his core inner circle remained fiercely loyal.
Norah kept the children occupied, teaching them drawing games with scrap paper and charcoal from the stove. Leo was highly energetic, constantly wanting to climb the rusted iron ladders, while Maya spent hours watching Declan, her gray eyes analyzing his every move.
On the third night, Tommy returned from a scouting run into the city, his face pale and covered in sweat.
"Boss, we have a problem," Tommy said, dropping a gym bag onto the table. "I went to the safehouse in Cicero to check on the secondary cash reserve. It was cleaned out. And it wasn't the feds. The locks were opened with an internal master code."
Declan’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Only four people have that code. You, me, Marcus—who is still tied up in my pantry at the Gold Coast—and..."
"Silas," Tommy filled in the name, his voice heavy.
Silas was Declan’s oldest friend, his right-hand man, and the godfather to Declan's syndicate crew. He was the one who had kept the street operations running smoothly while Declan transitioned into the corporate world.
"Silas sold us out," Declan said, the words falling like blocks of ice.
"He didn't just sell us out, Boss," Tommy added, pulling a tablet from the bag. "I intercepted an encrypted transmission from the Harrington estate. Silas has been working with the Senator for six months. He was the one who leaked the Gold Coast safehouse. He’s been promised full control of the Chicago docks once you’re out of the picture."
Norah stood up from the bed, her face tight with worry. "If Silas knows your infrastructure, does he know about this place?"
Declan shook his head slowly. "No. My grandfather built this place before Silas was born. But Silas knows my patterns. He knows how I think. He’ll start looking for old family assets."
Suddenly, Leo let out a sharp cry from the sleeping alcove. Norah rushed back, finding the boy clutching his stomach, his skin flushed and burning hot to the touch.
"Declan!" Norah called out, her voice rising in panic. "Something’s wrong with Leo. He’s burning up."
Declan rushed to the bed, pressing his large palm against his son's forehead. The boy was shivering violently, his breathing shallow and rapid.
"It’s an infection," Norah said, her tears finally breaking through her stoic defense. "He had a cough last week, and the diner... the rain... it must have turned into pneumonia. He needs a hospital, Declan. A real hospital. Not canned penicillin from a military crate."
Declan looked at the television screen, where his own mugshot was still being broadcast as a wanted fugitive. The Harringtons would have every major hospital in Cook County watched. Taking the boy to an ER was walking directly into a trap.
"Tommy, get the SUV," Declan ordered, his voice commanding and completely devoid of doubt. "We aren't going to a public hospital. We’re going to Dr. Chen’s private clinic in Chinatown. He owes me his life twice over. He’ll treat the boy off the grid."
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"Declan, it’s a setup risk," Tommy warned. "Chinatown is Silas's territory."
"I don't care if it's the gates of hell," Declan roared, lifting his sick son into his arms and wrapping him securely in a blanket. "My son needs a doctor. Move!"
