Chicago, Saturday.
It was still early, but the main roads into the city were already completely gridlocked. Lines of vehicles stretched for miles, moving only a few feet at a time, while horns and music at full volume turned the morning into utter chaos.
There were license plates from Indiana, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, and states much farther away. Some fans had driven through the night; others had been stuck in traffic for hours, but hardly anyone seemed upset.
Most of the vehicles were full of young people traveling to Chicago for the concert. They wore Taylor T-shirts, scarves bearing her name, and numbers painted on their windows.
Several cars displayed messages such as Chicago Stands With You!, We're Not Afraid!, and Soldier Field Awaits You.!
More than a traffic jam, it was beginning to look like a carnival.
Windows remained down despite the cold, and hits from 1989 could be heard everywhere. Shake It Off ended in one vehicle just as Blank Space began in the next, while a group of girls sang Style from the back of an SUV.
Whenever traffic came to a complete stop, some people got out of their cars to dance. Others leaned through their sunroofs, waved signs, or raised flags toward the rows of vehicles surrounding them.
And it wasn't just one or two groups.
The celebration stretched along the entire highway.
Once people realized they were surrounded by others traveling for the same reason, the excitement became contagious. Drivers who had initially only listened to music began honking in time with the songs. Strangers passed food, bottles of water, and handmade bracelets from one vehicle to another.
Some young people had even climbed onto the roofs of their cars to dance, unconcerned about the dents they might leave behind. Every move was met with shouts and applause from the nearby lanes.
Near the tollbooths, the vehicles were packed so closely together that the whole area looked like a giant party on wheels. The workers could barely maintain order, and several traffic officers walked between the lanes, telling fans to get back inside their cars before traffic started moving again.
Then a hum sounded in the distance.
At first, it was lost beneath the music and horns, but it grew louder until hundreds of people looked up.
A local news helicopter appeared above the highway. The station's logo stood out on its side, and a cameraman secured by a harness beside the open door kept his lens trained on the crowd.
The response was immediate.
Thousands of hands began waving toward the sky. Fans raised their signs, turned up their music, and shouted as loudly as if Taylor could hear them from the helicopter.
Inside the aircraft, a reporter gripped a handrail as she tried to keep her balance. The wind had completely ruined her hairstyle, but her smile never faded.
—Oh my God! —she exclaimed to the camera—. Can you believe what we're seeing this morning?
The camera operator angled his lens downward.
From the air, the lines of vehicles seemed endless. There were decorated cars, signs raised toward the sky, and thousands of people slowly making their way toward downtown Chicago.
—There are still several hours before the gates open at Soldier Field, and the roads are already at a standstill —the reporter continued, raising her voice above the noise of the rotors—. Authorities recommend avoiding downtown and using public transportation whenever possible.
The camera zoomed in on a group of young people holding an enormous sign between two SUVs:
WE'RE NOT AFRAID. CHICAGO STANDS WITH TAYLOR.
—Look at all these people —the reporter said—. Many have traveled through the night, and some don't even have tickets. They simply want to be in Chicago to show their support after what happened.
The helicopter continued along the highway as another wave of cheers followed it from below.
—These images bring to mind the grand receptions of another era, when the arrival of a star could bring an entire city to a halt.
She paused briefly and looked back toward the endless line of vehicles.
—But this is no longer just about a concert. For many of these people, showing up at Soldier Field today is a way of saying they won't let fear make their decisions for them.
—They're all here for one person.
The camera tilted down to frame an enormous flag waving above several vehicles. It bore Taylor's face surrounded by the words Chicago Stands With You.!
The reporter smiled into the camera.
—Taylor Swift.
And that was only one of the highways.
By then, practically every major route into Chicago was congested. Authorities had deployed traffic officers at the city's entrances, and several electronic signs warned drivers to find alternate routes.
Public transportation had not escaped the chaos either. The CTA had increased service on the Red, Orange, Brown, Purple, Blue, and Green Lines, but trains were still arriving at stations full. On some platforms, staff had to stop additional passengers from going down until the next train arrived.
Stations near downtown were packed with T-shirts, signs, and painted faces. Street vendors had appeared early that morning, offering everything from bracelets and photographs to rain ponchos, gloves, and scarves bearing Taylor's name.
Free shuttle buses had been arranged at several parking lots some distance from Soldier Field to transport concertgoers and keep the streets around the stadium from becoming completely gridlocked. Buses departed every few minutes, but the lines kept growing.
The previous day's events had produced a far greater effect than anyone had expected.
Early estimates suggested that Chicago could receive at least one hundred and fifty thousand visitors over the weekend. Only some had tickets to the concert. The rest were arriving to take part in the activities, gather near the stadium, or simply show their support.
And that did not include local residents.
The city's transit network, emergency services, and hotel capacity were all being tested at once. Police officers, paramedics, firefighters, traffic workers, and municipal employees had been called in to cover additional shifts.
The mayor had already appeared before the cameras to guarantee that the concert would go ahead as normal.
After a statement like that, there was no turning back.
All of Chicago seemed louder than usual. Music played in the streets, news helicopters circled downtown, and thousands of people headed toward Soldier Field many hours before the gates were due to open.
Meanwhile, the person responsible for much of that spectacle was still fast asleep.
Taylor had spent much of the night tossing and turning. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the Ferris wheel cabin, the kiss, and the way Ethan had responded to her confession.
She had only managed to fall asleep at dawn.
Ethan, on the other hand, had gotten up early. After showering and making coffee, the first thing he did was contact his colleagues in Intelligence.
There was no good news.
Calls prompted by the reward had multiplied overnight. Some people claimed to have seen Danny at train stations, gas stations, hotels, and shelters. Others were simply trying to collect the money by offering baseless rumors.
Every lead had been checked.
None led to him.
Danny had truly become a rat hiding in the sewers. He wasn't using cards, hadn't turned on any known phone, and hadn't appeared on camera again since leaving the second vehicle.
Despite the reward.
Despite the alerts.
Despite his photograph circulating throughout the city.
Danny had vanished.
And while thousands of people made their way toward Soldier Field, no one knew whether Danny was fleeing Chicago or preparing to strike again.
There was no trace of him, and continuing to dwell on it wouldn't make him appear.
With no immediate task to handle, Ethan decided to make use of the time and went down to the basement. Soon afterward, the metallic clatter of dumbbells and barbells began echoing through the training area.
Running in Chicago had never felt the same as running in Banshee. There, he could lose himself for miles among empty roads, trails, and forests. In the city, by contrast, there was always traffic, people, and too much concrete.
That was why he had lately preferred to train at home.
Despite all the physical enhancements he had received thanks to the system, Ethan had never stopped exercising. Strength that went untrained eventually became clumsy, and only through those routines did he feel he maintained complete control over his body.
He finished his last set and returned the heavy barbell to its rack with a sharp clang. His skin was covered in sweat, and his muscles were taut from the effort. After catching his breath, he draped a towel over his shoulder and went upstairs.
He wore only purple-and-gold basketball shorts, with the number eight embroidered on one leg. His torso was bare, and after nearly an hour of training, the muscles in his shoulders, arms, and abdomen were more defined than usual.
—Good morning.
When he entered the living room, he found Chloe and Megan watching the live coverage. Chloe sat at one end of the sofa with a cup of coffee and a tablet on her lap, while Megan reclined at the other end under a blanket.
Both women looked away from the television at the same time.
And their eyes followed him as he crossed the room.
Ethan didn't seem to notice. He continued toward the glass doors and stepped out onto the patio.
Megan tilted her head slightly to watch him walk away.
—Try to be a little less obvious —Chloe murmured.
—You were looking too.
—I was checking for any new injuries.
—Of course.
Outside, the cold air struck Ethan's warm skin. A thin layer of steam hovered over the heated pool, and patches of snow covered the edges of the patio.
He stopped beside the water, wiped his face, and tossed the towel onto a lounge chair. Then he dove in headfirst.
Splash!
Water surged up on either side of him, and Ethan began swimming without stopping.
Only then did Chloe and Megan turn their attention back to the television.
Chloe checked the time.
—Go wake her. We have to leave soon, and with traffic like this, we'll need plenty of time to get to Soldier Field.
Megan threw off the blanket and stood.
—She won't like it.
—That's why I'm asking you.
Megan gave her an annoyed look before heading upstairs.
About ten minutes later, Ethan completed his final lap and reached the edge of the pool. He planted both hands on the deck and pulled himself out in one motion.
Water ran down his body and formed a puddle around his feet as he looked for the towel he had left on the lounge chair.
At that moment, Taylor was coming down the stairs.
She wore black-framed glasses, an oversized sweatshirt, and comfortable pants. Her hair was still slightly mussed from sleep, and she yawned as she tried to free one hand from a sleeve.
Without makeup, wearing glasses and those comfortable clothes, Taylor looked like any young woman who had just gotten out of bed.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the living room toward the backyard. Through the glass doors, she saw Ethan beside the pool, still wet from his swim.
Taylor opened one of the doors and stepped outside.
Ethan heard her and turned toward her as he ran a hand through his hair.
—Good morning.
—Morn...
Taylor stopped halfway through her answer. For an instant, her eyes dropped to Ethan's bare torso before quickly returning to his face.
She adjusted her glasses, as though that small gesture could hide the fact that she had been looking.
—Good morning —she repeated.
Ethan turned toward the lounge chair where he had left the towel, but Taylor reached it first. She picked it up and came over to offer it to him with both hands.
—Here.
—Thanks.
Ethan accepted it with some discomfort. Not because of Taylor, but because on the other side of the glass doors, Chloe and Megan had stopped paying attention to the news.
Both were watching them with obvious curiosity.
And they looked puzzled.
Ethan began drying his hair.
—I'm your bodyguard. You don't have to do things like this for me.
—I know —Taylor replied with a faint smile—. I'm doing it because I want to. Besides, you're my friend too.
Ethan glanced over his shoulder. Chloe and Megan were still watching from the living room.
—They're watching.
—I noticed.
—Someone might think something happened between us.
Taylor shrugged.
—They wouldn't be entirely wrong.
Ethan gave her a warning look.
—Taylor...
—Relax, Detective. I remember what we agreed.
She gave him one last smile and went back inside. She seemed far more awake than when she had come downstairs.
Chloe and Megan exchanged a look.
Taylor walked past them as though nothing had happened, but the smile she was trying to hide was far too obvious.
Chloe opened her mouth to ask a question, stopped, and looked back toward Ethan. He was still beside the pool, drying himself with a resigned expression.
It didn't take a particularly observant person to understand.
Whatever had happened the night before, Taylor was the one taking the initiative.