Chapter 10 - The False Victory
The safehouse was a fortress of steel and concrete hidden beneath an abandoned factory on the Chicago River.
Vincent sat heavily in a leather armchair, a glass of expensive bourbon resting in his hand.
A private physician had arrived an hour ago to properly stitch and bind his chest wound.
The immediate threat of death had finally passed.
The city was securely back under his total control, and the traitors were dead or in hiding.
He looked across the dimly lit room at Mary.
She was standing by the large, reinforced window, watching the rain fall into the dark water.
Vincent slowly pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to her.
He wrapped his good arm around her waist, pulling her gently against his side.
"It is finally over," Vincent whispered, kissing the top of her head.
"We have the money, we have the power, and we have each other."
"I am going to buy that house in California, Mary."
"We are finally going to leave this life behind."
Mary leaned her head against his shoulder, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
"I would like that very much, Vincent," she replied softly.
She turned around and gave him a warm, reassuring smile.
"I am going to get us some ice for those drinks."
She walked gracefully toward the small kitchenette in the corner of the room.
Vincent smiled, feeling a profound sense of peace he had not experienced in ten agonizing years.
He walked over to the desk where Mary had left her battered medical bag.
He wanted to find her painkillers to help numb the lingering ache in his chest.
He opened the bag and rummaged through the bandages and sterile tools.
His fingers brushed against a heavy, hidden zipper compartment lined in the bottom of the leather bag.
He pulled it open.
Inside rested a perfectly organized row of custom-milled, cross-cut hollow point bullets.
They were the exact same specialized rounds that Rico used.
The exact same bullet that had been pulled from Vincent's own chest just hours ago.
Vincent froze, his blood turning to absolute ice in his veins.
He turned around slowly to look at the kitchenette.
Mary was standing completely still, but she was not holding any ice.
She was aiming a suppressed pistol directly at his heart, her eyes entirely devoid of love.
"Jack Sullivan didn't just save me from that alley ten years ago, Vincent," she whispered coldly.
May you like
"He recruited me into the Syndicate."
"And they send their regards."
