Miller gave a dry, humorless laugh as he led Adrian toward the exit.

“Your underboss has been very busy today, Adrian.”

The paramedics started rolling me away, the wheels squeaking on the linoleum.

The overhead lights flickered as the winter storm rattled the terminal roof.

My phone, tucked into my coat pocket, began to vibrate against my hip.

I pulled it out with trembling fingers.

The screen lit up with an unknown number, and a single text message appeared.

I stared at the screen through the blur of my tears.

The text was from an unsaved number.

*A child of Adrian DeLuca is a liability the city cannot afford,* it read.

My thumb shook as I turned the phone off and shoved it deep into my coat pocket.

The paramedics wheeled me out of the terminal and into the biting cold of the Chicago night.

Snow stung my face, freezing my eyelashes.

They loaded my gurney into the back of an ambulance, and Agent Miller climbed in right behind us.

Adrian was put into a black SUV parked directly behind the emergency vehicle.