The Chicago war lasted three days.
Three days of coordinated attacks, strategic counters, and carefully calculated violence.
Three days of me sitting at home, heavily pregnant, coordinating remotely while Katerina kept Rosa entertained and safe.
Three days that felt like three years.
Dante called every hour as promised, but the updates were grim.
"They're better organized than the Syndicate," he said on day two. "Military precision. Professional soldiers, not street thugs. We're holding our positions, but barely."
"What about Chicago itself? Can we hit them at home?"
"That's what the Commission is debating. Do we take the fight to their city, or do we keep defending ours?"
"If we just defend, we look weak. They'll keep coming." I shifted uncomfortably, my back aching. Antonio was running out of room, pressing on every organ I had. "We need to hit them where it hurts. Their leadership.
Their revenue streams. Make it too expensive to keep fighting."
