December 27, 2025 – Time: 03:02 Under Dawson Bridge – Old Warehouse
Dusty light seeping into the warehouse glowed at the tips of the barrels. Luca's men were closing in. Michael pressed the steel briefcase against his chest, his back against the cold wall of the warehouse.
"Drop the case, Hale," said the leader of the men, a mocking tone in his voice. "Mr. D'Angelo wants to speak with you personally. It's preferable that you're alive, but it's not a requirement."
Michael closed his eyes in the darkness. As a psychologist, he knew how fear could paralyze a person. But now, he needed to turn that fear into fuel. He now understood why his father had placed that concrete slab on the warehouse floor, why he had made the warehouse's ventilation system so extensive.
This wasn't a warehouse. This was an escape tunnel.
"Tell Luca," Michael said, his voice echoing in the warehouse. He was surprisingly calm. "Tell him I say hello from where his brother fell."
Michael suddenly flung the flashlight in his hand toward the men's eyes. In the same instant, he slammed the smoke bomb his father had left in the bag onto the floor.
BOOM!
A thick, white smoke filled the warehouse. Gunshots pierced the silence, but the bullets only struck empty air. Michael moved like a ghost through the smoke. With memorized steps, he jumped onto the cover beneath the concrete slab.
Below was a narrow tunnel connected to Chicago's old sewer system. The moment Michael closed the hatch behind him, the sound of the explosion above deafened his ears. Luca's men had blown up the warehouse; they wanted to make sure Michael was dead inside.
Michael lit his flashlight as he moved through the pitch-black tunnel. He opened the bag. He looked again at the photo his father had left him. Chicago's greatest philanthropist, nicknamed "The Father of the City,"Thomas Sterling.
Was Asher Burke Thomas Sterling? Or was Sterling just Asher's biggest pawn?
The end of the tunnel led to a deserted pier on the shore of Lake Michigan. When Michael emerged from the tunnel, the rain washing over him washed away the smell of gunpowder and dirt. He took out his phone. He wrote a message.
Recipient: Natalia Reyes "There was an explosion in the warehouse. Luca's men think they killed me. Let them believe that. I'm in the shadows now, Natalia. You wanted the truth... Now watch."
Michael threw the phone into the lake. He pulled up the collar of his black coat and blended into the night.
Michael Hale didn't die that night. But that night, the psychologist tormented by guilt took his last breath. Now, there was only one thing coursing through Chicago's veins:
Payback time.