Chapter 8 - Night at the Steel Yard
The south side railway yard was a graveyard of rusted boxcars and overgrown weeds. Fog rolled off the nearby canal, wrapping the steel skeletons of the old trains in a ghostly shroud.
At midnight, three black SUVs rolled slowly into the yard, their headlights cutting through the mist. Out stepped fifteen heavily armed men, led by a tall, skeletal man in a pristine grey suit—The Tailor.
"Search the trains!" The Tailor ordered, his voice thin and rasping. "Find the girls and the woman. Shoot anyone else."
As his men dispersed into the maze of rusted steel, a single searchlight flickered on from the top of an old watchtower, blinding the invaders.
"Looking for us?" Caleb’s voice echoed over a megaphone.
Before the mercenaries could react, the railway yard erupted into a warzone. Nathan's men, hidden inside the hollowed-out train cars, opened fire. The tactical advantage was absolute.
Nathan moved through the fog like a specter of vengeance. With his Walther PPK, he picked off the mercenaries one by one. He was relentless, driven by a cold, righteous anger that defied his reputation as a ruthless criminal. He wasn't fighting for territory or money tonight; he was fighting for a family’s right to exist.
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The Tailor, realizing he had been lured into a slaughterhouse, attempted to sprint back to his SUV. But as he reached the door, a heavy hand grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him against the bulletproof glass.
Nathan stared into the hitman’s terrified eyes. "Your boss in Union City is going to get a call," Nathan whispered. "And you are going to tell him exactly what happens to anyone who touches Chicago."
