“I am at the gate,” Adrian said.

I leaned closer to the console, my hands gripping the edge of the metal desk.

“Let him in,” a second voice replied over the static.

It was Salvatore Vale.

The sound of his voice made my skin crawl; it carried the weight of decades of cruelty.

On the screen, a low-resolution camera feed from Adrian’s collar camera flickered into view.

The camera showed the massive, wrought-iron gates of the Vale estate swinging open.

The driveway was lined with ancient oaks, their bare branches reaching like claws toward the dark Chicago sky.

Adrian walked forward, his boots crunching on the gravel.

“You came alone,” Salvatore’s voice came through the transmitter. “I am surprised, Adrian.”

“I came to negotiate,” Adrian said, his voice cool and devoid of fear. “You have the city blocked off, and my family needs to leave.”

“Your family belongs to the Vale name,” Salvatore said. “They are not going anywhere.”

Adrian kept walking, the camera tilting slightly as he climbed the wide stone steps of the mansion.

I watched the screen, my knuckles turning white.