THE KING'S LAST GAMBLE

The Father's Hunt

Dominic stepped off the private jet at Chicago Executive Airport with three men and a doctor.

Dr. Haddad had protested the trip. He had used words like "cardiac event" and "permanent damage" and "you won't survive another month if you keep this up." Dominic had listened, nodded, and boarded the plane anyway.

Now, standing on the tarmac with the cold wind cutting through his coat, he felt every one of those warnings. His chest ached. His left arm was numb. But he didn't have time to be careful.

Vincent met him at the bottom of the stairs. He had flown ahead with a small team and had already set up a command post in a warehouse near the South Side.

"Any word?" Dominic asked.

"Nothing. Adrian's phone is still dead. His team's phones are dead too. We've got people watching the hospitals and the morgue. Nothing yet."

"Then we're not looking hard enough."

---

The warehouse where Adrian had disappeared was a burned-out shell. Someone had set it on fire after the attack, probably to destroy evidence. Dominic stood in the charred doorway and stared at the blackened walls.

"This was Sal's operation," Vincent said. "Adrian took it, just like he was supposed to. Then something went wrong."

"Where was the extraction point?"

"Two blocks north. A parking garage. Adrian's team never made it there."

Dominic walked through the wreckage, his shoes crunching on broken glass. The fire had been intense, but not intense enough to hide everything. He saw bullet casings on the floor. Bloodstains on the concrete. A discarded radio.

He picked up the radio and turned it over in his hands. The channel was still set to the family's frequency.

"Adrian called for help," Dominic said. "He used this radio."

"We found it near the back door. It looks like he was trying to escape."

"Trying and failing." Dominic placed the radio in his pocket. "What about security cameras?"

"The whole block is dark. Sal's people cut the power before the attack."

"Of course they did." Dominic turned to Vincent. "I need to see the parking garage."

---

The garage was empty except for a few abandoned cars and a lot of shadows. Dominic walked to the top level, his breath fogging in the cold air. From here, he could see the whole neighborhood—the burned warehouse, the dark streets, the distant lights of downtown Chicago.

"This is where Adrian was supposed to meet his extraction team," Vincent said. "They waited for twenty minutes before they went looking for him."

"And what did they find?"

"Nothing. No Adrian. No bodies. Just an empty warehouse and a lot of blood."

Dominic stared out at the city. Somewhere out there, his son was either dead or wishing he was.

"Sal sent me a message," Dominic said. "He wants the empire in exchange for Adrian's life."

Vincent was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "What did you tell him?"

"I told him to go to hell."

"And if he kills Adrian?"

Dominic turned to face him. "Then I'll kill Sal. And everyone who works for him. And everyone who ever helped him. I'll burn his organization to the ground and salt the earth where it stood."

Vincent didn't flinch. "That's what he wants. He wants you to react with anger instead of strategy."

"I know." Dominic walked back toward the stairs. "That's why I'm not going to give him what he wants. I'm going to find Adrian first. And then I'm going to make Sal pay."

---

They spent the next six hours canvassing the neighborhood. Dominic's men went door to door, asking questions, flashing money, making threats when necessary. Most people knew nothing. A few had heard something. One old woman who lived above a laundromat had seen a black van speeding away from the warehouse around midnight.

"Did you see who was driving?" Dominic asked.

The woman shook her head. "Too dark. But there was a logo on the side. A red circle with a black triangle inside."

Dominic's blood ran cold. He knew that logo. It belonged to a private security company called Trident Solutions—a legitimate business that was actually a front for Sal Vane's operations.

"Where does Trident keep its vehicles?" Dominic asked.

Vincent pulled out his phone and did a quick search. "They have a depot in Cicero. About thirty minutes from here."

"Then that's where we're going."

---

The Trident depot was a fenced-in lot filled with black vans and armored trucks. Dominic and his men arrived just after midnight, their own vehicles parked two blocks away.

"There are at least four guards," Vincent said, studying the lot through binoculars. "Maybe more inside."

"Can you take them?"

"Give me ten minutes."

Vincent and two other men slipped through the fence and disappeared into the shadows. Dominic waited in the car, his chest tight, his hands cold. He could feel his heart beating too fast, could feel the pressure building in his chest.

Not now. Not yet. He couldn't afford to collapse now.

Six minutes later, Vincent's voice came through the radio: "Lot is secure. Four guards, all unconscious. No casualties."

Dominic got out of the car and walked through the gate. The depot was dark except for a single light burning in the office. Inside, he found a desk covered with papers—shipping manifests, vehicle logs, security schedules.

"Look for anything with Adrian's name," Dominic said.

They searched for twenty minutes before Vincent found something. A logbook entry from the night of the attack.

"Here," Vincent said. "A van was dispatched to the warehouse at 11:45 PM. It returned to the depot at 1:30 AM. The driver's name is listed as 'M. Delgado.'"

Marcus Delgado. The man Adrian had been meeting with before the attack.

"Where is Delgado now?"

"His address is listed in the file. An apartment in Berwyn."

Dominic grabbed the file. "Let's go."

---

The apartment was on the third floor of a run-down building. Dominic's men kicked in the door and found Marcus Delgado sitting on a couch, a gun in his hand, his eyes wide with fear.

"Don't move," Vincent said, his own gun aimed at Delgado's chest.

Delgado dropped the gun. "I didn't want to do it. Sal made me. He said he'd kill my family if I didn't help."

"Where is Adrian?" Dominic asked.

"I don't know. I swear. They took him somewhere else. A different location. I just drove the van."

"Where did you take him?"

"A warehouse in Gary. But that was two days ago. They might have moved him since then."

Dominic stepped closer. "If you're lying to me—"

"I'm not lying. I swear." Delgado's voice cracked. "Sal has him. He's been talking about some kind of exchange. Something about you giving up everything."

Dominic stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned to Vincent.

"Bring him. We might need him."

---

They drove to Gary in a convoy of three cars. The warehouse was near the lake, a hulking structure of rusted metal and broken windows. Dominic's men surrounded the building while Vincent scouted ahead.

"Two guards at the front," Vincent reported through the radio. "One at the back. No sign of Adrian."

"Take them out. Quietly."

Vincent and his team moved in. Dominic waited in the car, his heart pounding, his hands shaking. He could feel the pressure in his chest growing worse, could feel the edges of his vision starting to blur.

Not now. Not yet.

The radio crackled. "Building is secure. You need to see this."

Dominic got out and walked into the warehouse. The inside was empty except for a single chair in the middle of the floor. A chair with leather straps on the arms and legs. A chair with blood on the seat.

"He was here," Vincent said. "But they moved him."

Dominic stared at the chair. His son had been tied to this chair. His son had bled on this seat. And now he was gone.

"How long ago?"

"Blood is still wet. They left in a hurry."

Dominic turned to Delgado, who was being held by two of his men. "Where would they take him?"

Delgado's face was pale. "There's a marina. A boat. Sal uses it to move people he doesn't want found."

"Where?"

"North. Waukegan. There's a private dock."

Dominic looked at Vincent. "How fast can we get there?"

"Forty minutes."

"Then let's go."

---

They reached the marina just before dawn. A yacht was anchored at the end of the dock, its lights dark, its engine quiet. Dominic's men moved into position while Vincent scouted ahead.

"He's on board," Vincent reported. "Sal is with him. At least six guards."

"Can we take them?"

"Not without a fight."

Dominic stared at the yacht. Somewhere on that boat, his son was alive. Or dead. He had no way of knowing.

"Then we fight," he said.

He picked up a radio and called his men. "Move in. Take the guards. I want Sal alive. Everyone else is expendable."

The dock erupted in gunfire.

Dominic ran forward, his chest burning, his vision blurring. He saw Vincent take down two guards. He saw his men swarming the yacht. He saw a flash of light, heard a shout, felt the world tilt.

Then he was on his knees, gasping for breath, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.

"Boss!" Marco was at his side, pulling him up. "Boss, stay with me!"

Dominic tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. His vision was fading, the edges going black.

Then he heard a voice—a voice he hadn't heard in years.

"Hello, Dominic."

Sal Vane stood on the deck of the yacht, a gun in his hand, a smile on his face. Behind him, two men dragged Adrian into view. His son was beaten, bloody, barely conscious.

"You came," Sal said. "I knew you would."

Dominic forced himself to his feet. "Let him go."

"Give me what I want."

"You'll get nothing from me."

Sal raised the gun and pressed it against Adrian's head. "Are you sure about that?"

Dominic's chest burned. His vision blurred. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Federico's voice: You'll have to choose, Dominic. You can't save everyone.

The sun was rising over the lake. The water was calm. And Dominic Moretti stood on the dock, staring at his son and his enemy, with nothing left to give.

Then he said the words that would change everything.

"Take me instead."