WE’RE WATCHING YOU
The mug shard slipped from my fingers as the full weight of the situation crashed over me. This wasn’t just a robbery. This was a message. A warning.
They knew where I lived. What I was working on. And they wanted me terrified.
It was working.
I fought back tears of anger and fear, forcing myself into action. I couldn’t stay here—whoever did this might come back. Moving quickly, I grabbed a duffel bag from my closet andstarted throwing in essentials. Clothes, toiletries, my laptop, and the external hard drives containing my work.
My hands shook as I gathered my most important documents—passport, birth certificate, and an emergency cash envelope, which I had kept concealed. As I packed, my mind raced. Who could have done this?
I paused for a moment, my eyes falling on a framed photo of my mother. On impulse, I grabbed it, wrapping it in a sweater before adding it to my bag.
The weight of the situation pressed down on me as I zipped up the duffel. My sanctuary was in ruins, violated by unseen enemies. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, and every creak of the building made me flinch.
I slung the bag over my shoulder, its weight oddly comforting. My gaze swept the apartment one last time, taking in the destruction.
My fingers tightened around my keys as I made my way to the door. I hesitated, my hand on the knob. Where could I go? Who could I trust? The faces of potential allies flashed through my mind, each one quickly dismissed. In this world of shadows and secrets, showing up on someone’s doorstep could put them in danger, too.
I took one last look around my violated home, the crude messages on the walls searing into my memory. This wasn’t just a temporary escape—I was running for my life. The weight of that realization settled in my gut like a block of ice.
My fingers hovered over my phone, the urge to call the police warring against my instincts. But I couldn’t risk it. My investigation implicated too many powerful people. For all I knew, the cops were in on it too.
Instead, I pulled up my encrypted messaging app and typed out a quick note to Roberto Mutini, the only person I trusted with the full scope of what I’d uncovered.
“Red alert. Going dark. If you don’t hear from me in forty-eight hours, release everything.”
I hit send, then powered down my phone completely. No way to trace me now.
As I stepped out of my apartment, fear gave way to a steely resolve that straightened my spine. They thought they could intimidate me into silence? They’d just lit a fire under my ass. I might be running, but I wasn’t giving up. Not by a long shot.
I slipped out the back of the building, sticking to the shadows. The night air felt electric against my skin, every sense on high alert. My eyes scanned constantly, searching for any sign of pursuit.
The duffel bag thumped against my hip as I moved, a constant reminder of how quickly my life had unraveled. But it also held the key to bringing down this whole corrupt system. They could destroy my apartment, but they couldn’t erase the evidence I’d collected.
I ducked down an alley, my mind racing through potential safe houses. I needed somewhere off the grid, somewhere they wouldn’t think to look for me. As I emerged onto a quieter street, a flicker of movement caught my eye.
I froze, pressing myself against a brick wall. A car rolled by slowly, its tinted windows revealing nothing. Was it just a late-night driver or something more sinister?
The car passed without incident, but the knot in my stomach tightened. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes tracking my every move. This was more than just paranoia—it was survival instinct.
I pushed off from the wall, forcing myself to keep moving. Standing still made me an easy target. I had to get lost in the city and become just another face in the crowd.
As I walked, my mind churned through the implications of what had happened. They knew where I lived. They knew what I was working on. How deep did this conspiracy go?
One thing was clear—I couldn’t do this alone anymore. I needed allies, people I could trust to have my back. But in a world where everyone seemed to have an angle, who could I turn to?
The faces of potential contacts flashed through my mind, and each one was quickly dismissed as too risky. I couldn’t endanger anyone else by showing up on their doorstep.
No, for now, I was on my own. Liv Consoli, investigative journalist and documentarist, had to disappear. At least until I could figure out my next move.
I turned down another street, letting the rhythm of my footsteps calm my racing thoughts. But I was wide awake to it now, more determined than ever to bring it all crashing down.
They wanted to play hardball? Fine. Game on.
Chapter 3
Power lies in the details. I’ve built my empire on this truth, watching Chicago’s elite dance to my carefully orchestrated symphony. From my penthouse office, forty stories above the city’s pulsing heart, I observe the night unfold through floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretches before me, a glittering canvas of possibilities and secrets.
