Chapter 14 - The Execution
Harper turned her back on Preston Whitcomb.
She didn't need to pull the trigger. She didn't need to dirty her soul with his blood. Walking away was the ultimate destruction of his power over her.
Enzo looked at Preston one last time.
“This is for Nathan,” Enzo whispered.
He drew his matte-black Sig Sauer, pressed the barrel against Preston’s temple, and squeezed the trigger.
Bang.
The gunshot echoed across the empty Gary airfield, swallowed by the roar of the winter wind. Preston’s body collapsed onto the frozen asphalt, motionless.
Matteo walked over with the evidence duffel bag and tossed it into the back of the transport van. “Federal agents just breached the front gates of the airfield, boss. We have about three minutes before we’re surrounded.”
“Luca is already on the commercial flight to Miami with the clean documents,” Enzo said, wiping the slide of his weapon and holstering it. “We take the jet.”
“Where to?” Matteo asked, climbing up the stairs into the Gulfstream.
Enzo walked over to Harper. She was standing at the edge of the runway, watching the first rays of the pale winter sun break through the heavy gray clouds over Lake Michigan. The cold wind whipped her blond hair around her face, but she wasn't shivering anymore.
Enzo took off his heavy wool trench coat and draped it gently over her shoulders.
She didn't flinch. She leaned into the warmth, looking up at him with clear, steady eyes.
“It’s over,” she said.
“No,” Enzo replied, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “The war is over. Your life is just starting.”
“I don't have a name anymore,” Harper whispered. “The Whitcomb name is dead. The money will be seized by the grand jury. I have nothing.”
Enzo reached out and took her bruised, scarred hand in his own. His grip was strong, protective, and unyielding.
“You have a DeLuca ring on your finger,” Enzo said. “And around here, that means nobody touches you ever again.”
A faint, genuine smile touched Harper’s lips—the first real smile Enzo had seen on her face.
May you like
“Let’s get out of here, husband,” she said.
They walked up the stairs into the private jet together. As the cabin door sealed shut and the plane taxied down the runway, rising high into the sunrise above the frozen skyline of Chicago, the city below was left to clean up the ashes of two dynasties.
