Chapter 9 - An Unholy AllianceI stared at him, my chest heaving as adrenaline flooded my veins. "Then why am I still breathing? Why are you here?"
Marcus gestured for his guard to lower the weapon. The man stepped back into the shadows of the sedan, leaving us standing alone under the flickering streetlamp.
"Because we share a common enemy," Marcus said quietly.
"The mob? You are the mob, Blackwood."
"I control the underworld of Chicago, yes," Marcus replied, his voice hardening. "But there are forces much darker than mine operating in this city. A shadow syndicate within the federal government—the very same corrupt officials who sold out your unit four years ago, and the same ones who tried to eliminate my family in that car bomb explosion."
My breath hitched. "The car bomb... that wasn't a rival gang?"
"No," Marcus said, his jaw tightening, a flash of pure, suppressed rage burning in his dark eyes. "It was an inside job orchestrated by the Director of the FBI himself, working in tandem with the men you were investigating. They wanted my silence, and they wanted your unit buried."
The pieces of the puzzle violently snapped into place in my mind. The betrayal, the botched safehouse raid, the strange leaks in the Department of Justice—it all made terrifying, logical sense.
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"Why should I trust you?" I whispered. "You're a criminal."
"Because I am the only man in this city with the resources, the power, and the motive to tear that corrupt government agency down to the ground," Marcus replied, stepping closer, extending his hand toward me. "And because my daughter... needs someone who can speak her language when I am gone."
