The sidewalk in front of the hotel entrance was completely packed with fans. Many of them held up phones, photographs, and signs of various sizes.
DON'T LEAVE!
CHICAGO STANDS WITH YOU!
WE'RE BY YOUR SIDE!
YOU CAN GET THROUGH THIS!
Then three vehicles appeared at the end of the street, and the crowd reacted immediately.
Two black Audis escorted a stretch limousine as it slowly approached the hotel entrance.
—Here they come —Atwater warned.
The officers moved quickly to reinforce the barricades as the convoy approached the red carpet.
—Taylor!
—We love you!
—Chicago stands with you!
The shouting suddenly grew louder, and dozens of phones rose above the crowd.
Atwater stretched out both arms to hold everyone back.
—Move back! Everyone stay behind the barricade!
The noise was deafening.
Burgess wasn't having an easier time of it. Several people were pushing from behind, desperate to get closer to the limousine, while reporters fought for enough space to capture the first image of Taylor.
The lead and rear vehicles came to a stop.
Eight men dressed in black stepped out almost simultaneously.
They were part of the new security team Chloe had temporarily hired from a major private firm in Chicago.
This time, security had been taken to the highest possible level. Inside the limousine, Ethan watched the scene outside through the tinted window.
It was the first time he had ever faced anything like this.
And he had to admit that his heart rate increased slightly.
Taylor, seated beside him, seemed considerably calmer.
The vehicle came to a stop, and the eight bodyguards had already formed a secure corridor.
They were all large men wearing black suits and dark sunglasses.
—All right.
Chloe clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.
—Detective Morgan will go first, with Taylor right behind him. Don't stop until you're inside.
Originally, Ethan was supposed to ride in one of the security vehicles. Taylor, however, had insisted that he accompany her inside the limousine.
Ethan slowly exhaled and adjusted his sunglasses.
—Let's get this over with.
He opened the door.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
The flashes began immediately. For a second, it was almost impossible to tell whether it was still nighttime.
Even with his dark glasses, that many flashes were unbearable.
Ethan stepped out of the vehicle and, the moment his shoes touched the ground, quickly scanned the entrance, the hotel windows, and the crowd held behind the barricades.
Then he positioned himself beside the door. He kept one hand on the frame and extended the other into the limousine.
Taylor took it.
Ethan closed his fingers around hers and helped her out.
Her outfit was simple: jeans, a black-and-white checkered long-sleeved sweater, and oversized sunglasses. Nothing particularly elaborate.
Even so, her presence was felt just as strongly as if she had appeared in an evening gown.
The flashes intensified.
Ethan felt as though stun grenades were being thrown directly into his face. Taylor, on the other hand, remained unfazed.
She raised a fist toward the fans.
The response was immediate.
A wave of cheers shook the entire area.
—Taylor!
—Chicago stands with you!
—Don't cancel the concert!
Taylor smiled and gave them a brief wave. However, she did not remain exposed any longer than necessary.
Ethan stayed close to her while the rest of the security team formed a protective barrier around them. Together, they quickly crossed the carpet and headed toward the hotel's main entrance.
—Do you think he can see us? —Burgess asked from a distance, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd.
Atwater shook his head.
He knew perfectly well that she was referring to Ethan.
—Impossible. He's lucky if he can even see where he's going.
In reality, Ethan could see perfectly well.
He had spotted Burgess and Atwater among the officers securing the perimeter, but he neither looked away nor acknowledged them. His attention remained fixed on Taylor and the people trying to approach her.
Now he also understood why so many security personnel wore dark glasses. They weren't merely part of the look; they protected their eyes from the flashes and allowed them to observe the crowd without revealing where they were looking.
For someone like Taylor, they served another purpose. They concealed blinking, involuntary reactions, and any unflattering expression a camera might capture at the worst possible moment.
The moment they passed through the hotel doors, the noise of the crowd became muffled.
Ethan released Taylor's hand but continued walking beside her.
—Are you all right?
—Perfectly fine —she replied—. Although I don't think I can see anything anymore.
—Welcome to my world.
Taylor let out a quiet laugh.
The group entered the elevator and rode up to the floor where the conference room was located. A member of the hotel staff was waiting when they stepped out and led them down a private hallway, away from the reporters.
Only a few minutes after Ethan and Taylor had taken their seats, someone knocked on the door.
Chloe entered first.
Megan appeared behind her.
Then several more people came in.
One of them wore the Chicago Police Department's dress uniform. The fabric was immaculate, several decorations covered his chest, and four small five-pointed stars gleamed on each shoulder.
Ethan studied him for a second.
He didn't need to know much about police ranks to understand.
That man stood at the very top of the department.
He was the superintendent. Yet despite holding one of the most important positions in the city, he walked near the back of the group.
Ahead of him were even more influential figures.
The mayor.
A senator.
If this had merely been the original welcome dinner, most of them probably wouldn't even have bothered to attend. However, the attack against Taylor had already become one of the most widely discussed stories in the United States.
The cameras were there.
So were the fans and the country's leading news outlets.
And politicians rarely wasted an opportunity to gain visibility, support, or influence. Ethan had no interest in interacting with them.
He discreetly stepped aside before the introductions began.
He wasn't intimidated. Those people didn't place him under any particular pressure. He had dealt with far more powerful individuals before.
He simply had no desire to greet politicians.
He found them exhausting.
At the back of the group, he spotted Hank. The man who could ordinarily intimidate half a police station with a single look was now standing beside the door, reduced almost to the role of an escort.
Since the room's security was more than adequately covered, Ethan walked over and bumped fists with him.
—What are you doing here?
Hank slipped his hands into his pockets and watched the mayor shake Taylor's hand in front of the cameras.
—What do you think?
He shook his head in resignation.
—The superintendent wanted someone from Intelligence here to show that we're all deeply involved.
Ethan arched an eyebrow.
—And they picked you to smile for the cameras?
Hank glanced sideways at him.
—Apparently, someone upstairs has a sense of humor. What else could force me to come to a place like this?
He looked toward the group of politicians.
—The superintendent wanted me to brief him personally on the situation.
—You still haven't found him?
Hank sighed and stepped a little closer so no one else could hear them.
—We caught him on several traffic cameras.
Ethan immediately gave him his full attention.
—Danny hailed a cab near the river —Hank continued—. We tracked him for a few blocks, but he knows how to avoid cameras. He got out shortly afterward and switched vehicles.
His expression hardened.
—After that, we lost him.
Ethan glanced toward Taylor, who was surrounded by the mayor, the senator, and several staff members.
—What's going to happen with the concert?
—What do you think is going to happen?
—I want to know if you can guarantee that Soldier Field will be safe.
Hank gave a bitter smile.
—I can't guarantee that a traffic stop will be safe, much less a stadium filled with more than seventy thousand people.
He looked around the room.
—But this isn't just Taylor's problem anymore. Now it's Chicago's problem.
Ethan frowned.
—They want the concert to go ahead.
—The concert is going ahead —Hank replied bluntly.
—Who made that decision?
Hank gave the mayor and the senator a meaningful look.
There was no need to answer.
—There'll be cops at every entrance, plainclothes officers in the crowd, K-9 units, and tactical teams standing by —he explained—. Soldier Field will be the most heavily guarded place in the city.
He paused before adding in a lower voice:
—And the information about the explosives will not be made public under any circumstances.
Ethan finally understood what was happening.
Canceling the event would mean admitting that a single man had managed to bring the entire city to its knees. After the attack on the convoy and all the national attention it had received, none of the politicians in the room were willing to allow that.
—Chicago is a safe city —Ethan said with a hint of sarcasm.
Hank raised an eyebrow slightly.
—That's what they're going to say in front of the cameras.
—And us?
Hank held his gaze.
—We're going to make sure it's true.
—A city that faces its problems head-on.
There wasn't much to explain.
Ethan understood perfectly. Especially when the city's reputation was already fragile.
—You don't need to worry too much about security —Hank continued—. Tonight and tomorrow, Soldier Field will be searched from top to bottom.
Ethan remained silent.
—And that's not all.
Hank lowered his voice slightly.
—We've put the word out on the streets.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
—Every gun dealer in Chicago already knows one thing.
Hank smiled without humor.
—Anyone who helps Danny now will have the entire Chicago Police Department coming down on them. Without explosives, there isn't much he can do.
Ethan placed his hands on his hips.
—This is getting ridiculous.
Ethan smiled slightly.
—They put a reward on him, didn't they?
Hank raised a hand.
—How did you know?
—Taylor's manager mentioned that they were preparing something.
Hank spread all five fingers.
—Five hundred thousand dollars for any information leading to his location and capture.
Ethan's eyes widened in surprise.
—Five hundred thousand?
A faint smile appeared on Hank's face.
—Never mess with someone rich enough to put half a million dollars on your head without thinking twice.
Ethan laughed.
That completely changed the rules.
If Danny tried to contact a dealer to obtain weapons, documents, or a vehicle, they would probably turn him in before the conversation was over.
How much could they make by helping him?
A few thousand dollars at best.
Nothing compared to half a million.
Besides, providing an address or making an anonymous phone call was far safer than doing business with a desperate fugitive.
Danny's photograph was probably already circulating throughout the entire city. Police officers, reporters, fans, and criminals all knew his face.
Turning him in wouldn't even be considered a betrayal.
He wasn't a partner.
He wasn't even from Chicago.
He was merely someone else's problem who had become a walking lottery ticket.
Danny was no longer running only from the police.
Now he had to hide from the entire city. At that moment, both the legal and criminal worlds had reasons to search for him.
What Ethan didn't know was that Chloe had wanted to offer a million dollars.
Only the superintendent's insistence had managed to stop her. A reward that large could attract bounty hunters, mercenaries, and all kinds of people from neighboring states.
But that could also create an even greater security problem.
Half of Chicago would go looking for Danny. Not all of them would simply call the police; some would try to capture him themselves, probably armed and with no idea how dangerous he was.
The formal conversation inside the room ended shortly afterward, and the group began making its way toward the press conference.
Ethan immediately returned to his role. He approached Taylor and walked beside her to the conference room.
At the front, a long table had been covered with a white tablecloth. Several microphones were clustered in the center, accompanied by bottles of water and name cards identifying those who would be speaking.
On the other side, the reporters sat almost shoulder to shoulder. Some reviewed their notes, while others were already holding up their phones and recorders.
Their expressions resembled those of a pack of hounds waiting for someone to start bleeding.
Although Ethan wouldn't have to answer any questions, he could feel the pressure.