Chapter 10 - Shadows on the Pavement
The community center on Irving Park was housed in a handsome red-brick building that smelled faintly of old books, floor wax, and brewing coffee.
Maya sat at a small metal desk across from an intake coordinator named Mrs. Gable, a cheerful woman with silver curls and wire-rimmed glasses who was busy stamping a stack of enrollment forms.
"Well, Maya," Mrs. Gable said, looking up over her spectacles with an encouraging smile. "Your transcripts from City College check out. We can easily get your administrative certification fast-tracked for the spring semester. It’s like riding a bicycle—you never really forget how to help people navigate the system."
"Thank you, Mrs. Gable," Maya said, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "It means more than you know."
When Maya stepped out of the community center twenty minutes later, the crisp autumn air hit her face, carrying the scent of rain. The afternoon sky had turned a deep, bruised gray, and heavy droplets were beginning to patter against the concrete sidewalk.
She pulled the collar of her fleece jacket up, ducking her head slightly as she walked toward the designated meeting block where Vincent’s driver, Marcus, was supposed to pick her up in the discreet gray sedan.
As she rounded the corner of Ashland Avenue, a sleek black sedan idling near the curb caught her eye.
Maya’s steps slowed.
Her nervous system, finely tuned by six months of street survival, flared instantly into red-alert. The car wasn't a Moretti vehicle. The tinted windows were pitch black, and the Illinois license plate was caked in fresh mud, obscuring the numbers.
She turned sharply to walk the other way, but a heavy hand dropped firmly onto her shoulder.
"Don't make a scene, Miss Bennett," a low, icy voice hissed near her ear.
Maya froze, her blood running cold. A second man stepped out from the shadows of an alley entrance, blocking her path forward. He wore a nondescript dark raincoat, his hand resting ominously inside his coat pocket.
"Who are you?" Maya demanded, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the terror gripping her chest. "If you think Moretti—"
"Moretti’s empire is busy cleaning house downtown," the first man interrupted, his grip tightening painfully on her shoulder as he guided her toward the rear door of the black sedan. "The Board is broken, yes. But there are independent contractors who don't take kindly to witnesses who poke around corporate vaults. Get in the car."
Maya planted her heels against the concrete, struggling against the heavy grip. "No! Let go of me!"
"I said, get in—"
Bang.
The sharp, concussive crack of a silenced gunshot echoed down the alleyway.
The man holding Maya’s shoulder suddenly gasped, his eyes widening in shock as his grip went instantly limp. He collapsed sideways into the wet pavement, clutching a shattered kneecap.
The second man whipped his head around, reaching frantically inside his coat for a weapon, but before his fingers could wrap around the grip, a heavy, brutal kick caught him square in the chest, sending him flying backward into a brick wall where he crumpled unconscious.
From the shadows of the brick corridor, Marcus stepped forward, his semi-automatic pistol still raised, blowing a thin wisp of smoke from the suppressor.
"You alright, Maya?" Marcus asked, his voice entirely devoid of panic.
Maya exhaled a breath she felt like she’d been holding for a lifetime, her knees trembling slightly. "I... yes. I'm okay."
Marcus tapped his lapel mic, his eyes scanning the empty street. "Boss. We have a minor local issue on Ashland. Clean-up required. Maya is secure."
May you like
A heavy, ice-cold static hissed through the earpiece, followed by Vincent’s voice—flat, quiet, and promising absolute devastation.
“Bring them to the east basement. I’ll be waiting.”
