Chapter 6
By noon, the city felt different.
Tense.
Waiting.
Roman’s empire moved like a living organism beneath Chicago—drivers, restaurants, ports, warehouses, accountants, judges, cops.
Ava had spent months trying to prove it existed.
Now she was standing in the center of it.
Roman’s penthouse transformed into a war room.
Phones rang constantly.
Maps covered the dining table.
Armed guards moved through the halls.
And Roman controlled all of it with terrifying calm.
“Cancel every shipment tonight,” he ordered.
“Move security to the west docks.”
“Find who leaked the tunnel route.”
No one questioned him.
No one hesitated.
Ava watched from the corner of the room, trying to reconcile this man with the one who had covered her body during an explosion.
One of Roman’s lieutenants—a scarred man named Luca—approached her carefully.
“You should stay close to him.”
Ava folded her arms. “That advice or a threat?”
“Both.”
Before she could answer, Roman entered the room.
Every conversation stopped.
The shift was instant.
Power rolled through the room the moment he appeared.
“Everyone out,” Roman said.
The room emptied within seconds.
Ava exhaled slowly. “Your people are terrified of you.”
“They should be.”
He walked toward the window overlooking the river.
“Sokolov doesn’t move without reason,” he said. “If he’s here himself, something changed.”
“Maybe he found out I survived.”
Roman looked at her sharply.
“That alone wouldn’t bring him.”
“Then what would?”
Roman hesitated.
That frightened her more than any answer.
Finally he said, “Your mother stole something before she died.”
Ava blinked.
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Her reporter instincts immediately ignited.
“Financial records?”
Roman nodded.
“Names. Politicians. Judges. Criminal networks across three countries.”
“And Sokolov thinks I have it?”
“He thinks your mother hid it before she died.”
Ava laughed once in disbelief.
“I grew up in a one-bedroom apartment in Boston.”
Roman stepped closer.
“She hid it with someone she trusted.”
His eyes dropped briefly to the necklace around Ava’s throat.
Ava’s pulse stopped.
“No.”
Roman held her gaze.
Slowly, he reached toward the silver locket.
“May I?”
Ava should have refused.
Instead she nodded.
Roman opened the tiny clasp carefully.
Inside was not a photograph.
It was a microchip.
Ava stared.
Roman looked almost stunned.
“After all these years…”
A knock interrupted them.
Luca entered quickly.
“Boss,” he said grimly. “We found Sokolov.”
Roman’s expression darkened.
“Where?”
“The opera house.”
Ava frowned. “The opera house?”
May you like
Roman’s eyes turned lethal.
“He wants an audience.”
