Page 74 of Vengeance

His throat tightened. "She's the one who kept me alive."

Dallas smiled through her tears. "That sounds like her."

Chloe laughed softly. "Mom."

Dallas stepped back, and her expression immediately became serious. "We don't have much time."

"What happened?" Chloe asked.

Dallas looked toward Vengeance. "Bowie sent me." Something about her tone immediately put him on edge.

"What is it?" he asked. She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a weathered envelope with Savage's handwriting covering the front.

For Vengeance.

His pulse stopped. "I already got Savage's letter."

Dallas slowly shook her head. "No." She handed him the envelope. "This one wasn’t in Doc's lockbox."

He carefully opened it, and inside, he found a single photograph of Savage, Doc, and a beautiful blonde woman—his mother, Elena. She was standing beside a little dark-haired boy of about five—Vengeance. His knees nearly gave out. On the back, Savage had written only one sentence.

If you're reading this, Elena finally came home. Trust her.

Vengeance stared at the words until they blurred. "It can’t be,” he breathed.

Dallas nodded sadly. "We found it hidden inside Savage's old toolbox." His mind raced. Savage had known for years, and he trusted Elena enough to leave Vengeance that message—enough to bet everything on it.

Vengeance slowly folded the letter and looked toward the dark mountains stretching east—toward Chicago and theanswers waiting there for him. He holstered his pistol. "We're done running. It’s time to go to Chicago."

Dallas nodded. "Bowie said you'd say that."

"What did he tell you?"

She smiled. "He said once you learned the truth—” Her smile became unmistakable. “You'd start the war yourself." And for the first time in his life, Vengeance realized he wasn't fighting simply to survive anymore. He was fighting to finish what Savage, Doc, and Elena had started over twenty years ago. Dante's empire was about to fall.

It was true what they said about Chicago—it seemed to never sleep. Even at two in the morning, headlights streamed through rain-slicked streets while trains rumbled overhead, and distant sirens echoed between towering buildings. Vengeance hated every second of being in the city. He hated Chicago even more because he was sure that the city had stolen his childhood when his mom moved there. But tonight, he intended to take his life back.

He stood in the shadows across from an abandoned church on the South Side, his eyes scanning every rooftop, alley, and parked vehicle. The building looked forgotten, its stained-glass windows shattered years ago and ivy climbing the cracked stone walls. Savage's final note had included only an address with no explanation, and no instructions. He was sure that was the place where he’d find his mother and the answers he had been looking for.

Chloe slipped up beside him, dressed head-to-toe in black. She carried herself with the quiet confidence she'd earned over the past several months. Gone was the sheltered girl who'd reliedon everyone else to protect her. She'd become as dangerous as him.

"You've checked that rooftop six times," she whispered.

"There are two shooters,” he said.

She followed his gaze. "I only see one."

"The second one doesn't want to be seen, but he’s there,” Vengeance insisted.

She smiled faintly. "I'll take your word for it."

He reached for her hand. "You don't have to come with me."

She squeezed his fingers. "I was never letting you walk into this alone."

A soft chuckle drifted from behind them. "I hoped you'd say that." Vengeance and Chloe both drew their pistols as an older man stepped from the darkness with both hands raised. He was wearing an expensive suit that had seen better days. His hair was gray and his face, weathered from time and a life well lived.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoot me,” the man said.