A Quiet Departure From the Shadows of a Chicago Empire
He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, illuminating a dusty sofa and a stone fireplace.
“Sit down,” Luca said, guiding me to a chair. “I’ll get the generator started.”
“We can’t stay here long,” I said, my teeth chattering.
“We stay here until we know who survived tonight,” Luca said, walking toward a back door.
I sat in the cold darkness, listening to his footsteps fade down the basement stairs.
A moment later, a low rumble vibrated through the floorboards as the generator kicked on.
A single, bare yellow bulb on the ceiling flickered and cast a dim light over the room.
On the small wooden table beside my chair, a black burner phone suddenly lit up.
The screen glowed in the dim room, showing an incoming text message from an unknown number.
I reached out my hand, my fingers trembling as I picked it up.
I stared at the screen.
The message was brief: *He is moving. Sophia.*
My thumb hovered over the glass, the warmth of the device a sharp contrast to the freezing air in the cabin.