Chapter 5 - Dawn Over Sullivan Holdings
The gray light of dawn was just beginning to bleed over the jagged skyline of downtown as Dante’s town car pulled into the subterranean parking garage of the Sullivan Holdings glass-tower. The cavernous concrete space was nearly empty at this hour, save for a few executive sedans parked near the private elevator bank. Marcus killed the headlights, plunging the car into deep shadow beside a concrete pillar.
In the back seat, I adjusted the collar of my dark coat, pulling my hair back into a tight knot to hide the remaining bruises along my jaw. My fingers trembled slightly as I rested them on the edge of the tactical tablet Marcus had handed me ten minutes ago.
"You don't have to come inside, Nora," Dante said, turning in the front passenger seat, his dark eyes searching mine with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the heavy steel Glock he was sliding into his shoulder holster. "You can stay in the van with Marcus."
"No," I said, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. "I know the layout of his private office better than anyone. I spent three months filing reports in that antechamber while he ran his syndicates out of the back room. If you want access to the main server mainframe behind his desk, you need the biometric override code. And Arthur only gave that to me once, thinking I was too scared to use it."
Dante stared at me for a long moment, his jaw working as he weighed the risk. Then, slowly, a ghost of a smile touched his lips, and he reached out, his tattooed fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead. "All right. But you stay within arm's reach of Marcus the entire time."
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Marcus grunted from the driver's seat, racking the slide of his submachine gun with a sharp metallic snap. "Perimeter is secure. Cameras on level forty-two are looping on a ten-second delay. We have a three-minute window before the morning shift change."
Dante pushed his door open, stepping out onto the cold concrete. I followed right behind him, our boots clicking in unison against the floor as we moved toward the private elevator marked *Executives Only*. The war I had tried to start alone in a hospital bed was about to reach its end, and this time, Arthur Sullivan was going to learn what happened when he backed the wrong people into a corner.
