Chapter 1 - The fog had swallowed the forest road when the little girl emerged from the trees.She was barefoot.
Blood ran from the bottoms of her feet, leaving tiny red marks behind her as she stumbled through the wet grass. Her pink dress had once been beautiful, but now it was torn at the waist and black with mud. One side of her face was streaked with dried tears.
Behind her, the forest stood perfectly still.
Too still.
The convoy of black SUVs slowed to a crawl.
Inside the lead vehicle, Ramon Ortega lifted his eyes from the file in his hands.
“What the hell is that?”
His driver stared through the windshield.
A child.
She was running directly toward them.
“Stop.”
The driver slammed the brakes.
The tires hissed across wet asphalt.
Before the SUV fully stopped, Ramon opened the door.
Cold fog rolled around his boots.
He stepped onto the road.
Ramon Ortega was the kind of man people recognized without ever having met him.
Six-foot-three.
Black suit.
Tattooed hands.
A scar cutting through his left eyebrow.
His reputation had traveled farther than he had.
Men in Chicago whispered his name in bars, warehouses, political offices, and prison cells.
Most people moved away when Ramon entered a room.
The little girl ran toward him.
Then her knees buckled.
Ramon caught her before her head struck the pavement.
She weighed almost nothing.
Her body was freezing.
One of his bodyguards raised his weapon.
“Boss—”
“Lower it.”
“But—”
“I said lower it.”
The guard obeyed.
Ramon looked down at the child.
She opened her eyes.
They were wide with terror.
“Please,” she whispered.
Ramon's jaw tightened.
“What's your name?”
“Emma.”
“Emma what?”
She shook her head.
“Where are your parents?”
“My mother…”
Her voice broke.
Ramon noticed the bruises around her wrists.
Not accidental bruises.
Rope marks.
Fresh.
His expression changed.
“Who did this?”
“They hung my mother.”
The guards exchanged looks.
Ramon looked at the forest.
“Where?”
Emma lifted one trembling hand.
“There.”
“How far?”
She swallowed.
“Not far.”
Ramon turned toward his men.
“Bring the medical kit.”
One man stepped forward.
“We should call the police.”
Ramon looked at him.
The man immediately regretted speaking.
“We're not calling anyone.”
Ramon shifted Emma higher against his chest.
Then he looked toward the trees.
“Give me six men.”
“Boss, we're supposed to be heading back to the city.”
“Plans changed.”
The fog thickened.
Ramon entered the forest.
His men followed.
Branches scratched against their jackets. Mud swallowed their shoes. Every few seconds Emma lifted her head.
“Faster.”
Ramon looked down.
“Why?”
She stared over his shoulder.
“Because she might not have much time.”
They pushed deeper into the woods.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Then Emma suddenly pointed.
“There.”
The trees opened.
A clearing appeared.
An ancient oak towered over the center.
And hanging from one of its branches was a woman.
Her body swayed gently in the wind.
“Move!”
Ramon handed Emma to one of his men and sprinted toward the tree.
“Cut her down!”
Two men climbed the trunk.
Another drew a knife.
Seconds later, the rope snapped.
The woman crashed into the grass.
Ramon dropped beside her.
“Check her pulse.”
“She's alive.”
“Get the oxygen.”
The woman coughed.
Her eyes fluttered.
Ramon leaned closer.
“Can you hear me?”
Her lips moved.
Only one word came out.
“Ortega…”
Ramon froze.
He had never seen her before.
Yet she knew his name.
“Who are you?”
Her eyes widened.
Then she grabbed his wrist with surprising strength.
“They found you.”
Ramon stared at her.
“Who?”
She tried to speak.
A gunshot exploded through the forest.
One of Ramon's guards dropped.
“CONTACT!”
Ramon grabbed the wounded woman and dragged her behind the tree.
Bullets tore through the branches.
His men returned fire.
The clearing erupted.
Emma screamed.
Ramon shielded her with his body.
“Stay down!”
Another shot.
Another man fell.
“Left side!” someone shouted.
Ramon looked toward the treeline.
Nothing.
No muzzle flash.
No movement.
Whoever was shooting knew how to disappear.
Then something caught Ramon's eye.
The carved symbol on the oak.
Three intersecting circles surrounding a vertical line.
He hadn't seen it since he was nineteen.
Since the night his father disappeared.
His breathing slowed.
“No…”
The wounded woman whispered from behind him.
“They're not here for me.”
Ramon looked at her.
“Who are they here for?”
The woman stared at Emma.
“For her.”
Ramon turned.
Emma stood frozen in the fog.
There was blood on her cheek.
But not hers.
Ramon's eyes narrowed.
“Emma…”
The little girl slowly raised her hand.
Something small was clutched inside it.
A silver key.
Ramon recognized the engraving.
His father's initials.
R.O.
His father had supposedly died twenty-two years ago.
Ramon looked at the key.
Then at the woman.
Then at the child.
And suddenly the entire forest went silent.
Not naturally silent.
Empty.
Like the killers had gotten exactly what they wanted.
Ramon stood.
“Everyone out.”
One guard stared at him.
“Boss?”
“Now.”
They began retreating.
Then Emma whispered something.
“What?”
She looked toward the base of the ancient oak.
“They told me you would come.”
Ramon's face hardened.
“Who told you?”
Emma pointed beneath the tree.
“There is something for you.”
They dug beneath the roots.
Three feet down, they found a rusted metal box.
Ramon opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
His father stood beside two men Ramon had never forgotten.
One was his uncle.
The other was a woman.
The same woman lying unconscious in the clearing.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO INHERIT THE ORTEGA EMPIRE.
Ramon stared at the words.
Then he noticed one final line.
Written beneath it.
YOUR FATHER CHOSE THE GIRL.
Ramon slowly looked at Emma.
For the first time that night, genuine fear entered the eyes of Chicago's most feared crime boss.
Because there was one thing the photograph had just made clear.
His father had known Emma.
And his father had left her alive for a reason.
Outside the clearing, somewhere in the fog, a phone began to ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Ramon answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“Hello, Ramon.”
He recognized it immediately.
Impossible.
The voice belonged to a man who had been dead for twenty-two years.
His father.
“If you're hearing this,” the voice continued, “then they have finally found my daughter.”
The line went dead.
Ramon stared at the phone.
Emma whispered:
“That's what they said would happen.”
Ramon turned toward her.
“Who is your father?”
Emma looked up at him.
May you like
Her answer destroyed everything he thought he knew about his family.
“You are.”
Related Stories
