Chapter 5 - Blood and Buttercream
The retaliation from Sloane’s camp didn't stop with a failed health inspection. Two nights later, the darkness of the South Side caught up with Golden Hearth.
Maggie was working late, finishing a batch of artisanal sourdough bread for the morning rush. The bakery was quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic kneading of dough. Suddenly, the front window shattered with a deafening crash.
A brick wrapped in cloth sailed through the glass, followed by a glass bottle filled with gasoline and a burning rag—a Molotov cocktail.
"Fire!" Maggie screamed, lunging across the counter.
The flames spread quickly, catching the vintage wooden chairs near the front. Maggie grabbed the fire extinguisher from behind the counter, pulling the pin with a desperate tug. She fought the flames, her eyes burning from the thick black smoke, her lungs screaming for air. She managed to put out the fire before it reached the main ovens, but the damage was extensive. The front of her beloved bakery was charred, ruined, and covered in soot.
She collapsed onto the flour-covered floor, coughing violently, tears cutting tracks through the ash on her face.
The door swung open, hanging loosely from its broken hinges. Elias rushed in, his face filled with a rare, raw panic. He dropped to his knees beside her, pulling her into his arms. He didn't care about the soot ruining his expensive suit; he only cared about the woman sobbing against his chest.
"Maggie. Look at me. Are you hurt?" he demanded, his hands framing her face, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears.
"My bakery..." she choked out, looking at the destruction. "They tried to burn it down, Elias. Everything I have... everything Ruth gave me..."
Elias held her tighter, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped. "You are safe. That is all that matters. I swear to you, Maggie, whoever did this will burn tenfold."
May you like
He lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her out of the ruined building into the cool night air. His men were already arriving, sealing off the area. Elias placed her in the back of his car, wrapping his coat around her shoulders.
As the car pulled away, Maggie looked back at her ruined dream. She saw Elias standing under the streetlights, talking to his security chief. His face was a mask of absolute, unyielding vengeance. The king of Chicago’s underbelly had been provoked, and the city was about to find out what happened when someone touched what belonged to him.
