“Come back to me, Lena,” he said quietly.

“I will,” I said.

The drive into downtown Chicago was silent.

The windshield wipers scraped rhythmically against the glass, clearing the wet sleet.

Elias kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, watching the traffic behind us.

The gray winter sky hung low over the city, casting a dreary light over the concrete.

“Is everything quiet?” I asked from the backseat.

“Two cars have been behind us since the highway exit, ma’am,” Elias said.

“A black sedan and a grey van.”

My heart thudded against my ribs.

“Are they Roman’s men?” I asked.

“One of them is,” Elias said, his voice smooth. “The sedan has Miller and Marcus.”

“The van is unknown.”

He turned the steering wheel, navigating the slushy streets of the Loop.

The tall stone facade of the Chicago Union Bank appeared ahead.

Massive granite pillars guarded the entrance, looking like a fortress of another kind.

“I will park right in front,” Elias said.

“I am coming inside with you.”

“Roman said you should stay with the car,” I reminded him.