Page 36 of Dark Seduction

I'm in a dimly lit alley on Chicago's south side, riveted by a trio of scorched motorcycles.

Beside me, Vanya keeps a watchful eye on our surroundings.

I step closer to one of the bikes, noting the deep scratches on its charred metal. This was the same bike that had nearly ended Dalia's life, and the realization tightens my jaw with anger.

As I examine the wreckage, memories of that night flash through my mind. I had planned to subdue the rider, to extract every piece of information about who wanted to hurt us.

But when it came down to it, my focus had shifted instinctively to Dalia’s safety. Protecting her had overridden every other concern, pushing my need for interrogation aside.

Now, standing here among the remnants of that night’s terror, I feel a twinge of frustration for the lost opportunity to learn more from the assailant. Yet there’s no real regret—ensuring Dalia's safety had been the only choice that mattered at the moment.

In the gloom of the alley, a jittery voice breaks the silence.

"Is this what you guys were looking for?" I spin around to see Sam, the skinny informant who tipped us off about the location. His eyes dart around nervously.

"You look spooked, Sam. Talk to me."

"Yeah, hell yeah, I'm nervous," he blurts out, wiping sweat from his brow. "You'd be too if you saw what I did."

I narrow my eyes at him, stepping closer. "There’s more cash in it for you if you prove yourself useful. And let's not forget, staying on my good side is beneficial to you."

Sam swallows hard then nods, his resolve firming. "Alright. I didn’t just find these bikes. I saw three guys ditch 'em here. All in black, real tactical like. One of 'em was holding his shoulder. After they ditched them, these things went up like a damn bonfire."

Vanya, standing a few steps behind me, chimes in with his sharp analysis. "Gear like that isn’t cheap and neither are these bikes—there’s serious money behind this."

Sam nods vigorously. "Exactly, man. Whoever's behind this ain’t messing around."

I consider the information, my mind racing through potential adversaries with the resources to orchestrate such a move.

"Thanks, Sam. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut."

Sam nods again, eager to escape the chilling atmosphere.

Before he can disappear into the shadows of the alley, a thought occurs to me. "Sam, you got family out of town?" I ask.

"Yeah, got some folks down in St. Louis," he replies, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Why?”

I pull out a thick stack of hundreds from my jacket, the bills crisp. Handing them over, I fix my gaze on him. "There’s extra in there for a little trip. Why don’t you visit them for a while?"

Sam's confusion shifts to a dawning realization. "Why's that?" he asks, his fingers tightening around the cash.

I let out a slow breath, the weight of impending conflict heavy on my shoulders. "I've got a feeling a storm’s brewing, possibly even a war. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire. Better safe than sorry."

Gratitude washes over Sam's face as he clutches the money closer. "Thanks, Mr. Ivanov. Really, thank you," he stutters, the sincerity in his voice clear.

He turns and nearly runs from the alley, the urgency of my warning fueling his swift departure. I watch him go, the gravity of the situation settling in. If trouble is coming, it's not just the immediate players in the game who are at risk—it's anyone connected to us.

Vanya watches me closely, a trace of concern etching his features. "Do you really think war is on the horizon?"

I nod without hesitation. "That attack was calculated, a decapitation strike aimed at throwing us into chaos. Going after Maura and Luk like that, making them dual targets... it was designed to maximize damage and disarray.”

Vanya shakes his head, his expression grim. "Nasty business, but we'll even the score.”

I stride over to one of the charred motorcycles, spotting a small compartment that appears to have been sealed shut by the fire. My instincts kick in. Pulling out the Leatherman I always carry, I wedge it into the tiny gap and pry. The compartment creaks, resisting at first, but with a firm twist, it pops open.

Inside, amidst the soot and debris, something gleams. I reach in, my fingers brushing against something metallic. Pulling it out, I examine the item, a clue that might lead us closer to those responsible for the attack. Vanya steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the find.

"This could be what we need to start unraveling this mess," I mutter, turning the object over in my hands.

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