Chapter 1 - The Kitchen Escape
Bruno's massive hand closed around Evelyn's bicep like a steel vice.
He lifted her completely off her feet, dragging her through the swinging metal doors of the kitchen.
The deafening chaos of the dining room faded slightly behind the thick soundproof walls.
Cooks were already scattering, abandoning boiling pots and screaming in pure terror.
Lorenzo walked backward through the doors, keeping his gun aimed directly at the dining room.
He fired two more shots into the smoke before slamming the doors shut and sliding a heavy steel prep table across the entrance.
"Move," Lorenzo commanded, his voice eerily calm despite the blood splattered across his pristine white collar.
Bruno shoved Evelyn forward, forcing her to run down the narrow aisle between the blazing stoves.
She slipped on a puddle of spilled olive oil but caught herself before hitting the greasy tile.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Suddenly, the glass skylight above the kitchen shattered inward.
Men in tactical gear dropped through the falling glass, landing directly on the stainless steel counters.
Bruno didn't hesitate for a single second.
He raised his massive weapon and unleashed a hail of bullets, turning the first assassin into a crumpled mess.
The second intruder returned fire, hitting Bruno squarely in the shoulder.
The giant enforcer grunted in pain but didn't drop his gun.
Lorenzo grabbed Evelyn by the collar of her apron and threw her behind a massive industrial refrigerator.
"Stay down," he ordered, leaning out to fire three precise shots that eliminated the second threat.
The kitchen fell silent, save for the hiss of leaking gas and the crackle of broken glass.
"We need to reach the alley," Bruno wheezed, clutching his heavily bleeding shoulder.
Lorenzo nodded, grabbing Evelyn's wrist and pulling her toward the reinforced steel exit door.
He pushed the heavy door open, stepping out into the freezing Chicago night.
A black armored SUV was waiting with the engine already running.
But as Lorenzo reached for the door handle, the driver's side window slowly rolled down.
The man sitting in the driver's seat was supposed to be Lorenzo's most trusted getaway driver.
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Instead, it was the restaurant floor manager, Gilbert, trembling violently as he held a detonator in his hand.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Moretti," Gilbert cried, pressing his thumb down on the glowing red button.
