Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering our tracks as we drove into the dark.

I tapped the screen to reply, but my fingers froze.

The phone screen suddenly went black.

A small, red light began to flash at the top of the casing.

It was not a low battery warning.

It was a remote override signal.

“Luca,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper.

“Boss?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Pull over,” I said.

The phone in my hand began to vibrate, a low, steady hum that felt like a heartbeat.

The red light turned solid, and then a voice came through the speaker.

It was not Kane’s voice.

It was a voice I had not heard in ten years.

“Dante,” the speaker whispered.

The connection crackled with static, then went dead again.

I stared at the black screen, my thumb hovering over the glass.

The van slowed down, its tires sliding slightly on the patch of ice near the curb.

The streetlights above us flickered, then died, leaving us in the complete dark of the Chicago night.