January 3, 2026 – Chicago Suburbs Moving Minivan Time: 10:15 PM
The air inside the minivan was colder than the Chicago frost outside. My hand around Ivy's throat was not just anger, but a survival instinct. Ivy's face flushed, the fearful admiration in her eyes replaced by pure terror.
"Where's Elara?" I roared. "What did you do to her, you bastard? If a hair on her head is harmed, not even Asher Burke can save you from me!"
Ivy whispered with difficulty. "She... She's safe. In an old hunter's cabin in Waukegan. No one... no one knows where it is."
"You're lying!" I said, and threw her hard onto the chair. I slammed that childhood photo with Sterling in her face. "Did you take Elara to lure me into Asher's arms? Are you working for him?"
Ivy coughed as she sat up, clutching her throat. "No, Michael! I was a victim when Sterling took that photo. Asher rescued me from that hell, yes... But he raised me to be a spy. However, when I met you... When I learned your secret at Dawson Bridge, things changed. Asher wanted me to eliminate you, but I chose to let you live!"
"Why?" I asked, pointing the barrel at his knee.
"Because you're the only real thing in this swamp!" Ivy shouted. "I thought Elara was safe, but the FBI... Agent Carter isn't just after you, Michael. Everyone with the Hale surname is a target. It wasn't me who leaked the coordinates of Elara's cabin to Carter's desk—it was Asher!"
Ivy looked at the satellite tracking system on her screen and cursed. "Michael, Carter left the gala. Asher Burke must have arranged a helicopter for him directly. The signal from the cabin in Waukegan went to Carter's tablet. By the time we get there by land, he'll already be there by air!"
Time: 10:45 PM
FBI Field Operation – Waukegan Woods
Agent Carter, thermal goggles in hand, was looking at the snow-covered cabin. Behind him, the ten-person HRT (Hostage Rescue Team) was ready to fire at any moment.
"Is the target inside?" Carter asked over the radio.
"Confirmed, sir. A female figure in front of the window. It's definitely Elara Hale. Michael Hale will be here any minute."
Carter smiled. "Michael won't be coming. He's on the other side of Chicago trying to save his own skin. Take Elara. If we want Michael, we'll use his sister as bait."
When the cabin door was kicked down, a pained scream rose from inside. Elara, curled up in a corner as her father had taught her, was trying to defend herself with the small knife in her hand. But those facing her weren't street thugs; they were the state's best-trained killers.
Carter watched Elara being loaded into the armored vehicle. "You go ahead," he said to the captain beside him. "I'll meet with Asher Burke here face to face. Clean up the evidence and take the girl straight to headquarters."
Time: 11:10 PM
Inside the Minibus
The federal police channel crackled on the minibus radio."Target secured. Elara Hale is in custody. Transfer to the safe zone is beginning."
The world froze for a moment. My father's voice echoed in my ears:"If you can't protect someone, there's no point in dying for them, Michael."
I turned to Ivy. The pure hatred in my eyes pinned her to her seat. "If Carter gets that girl into the headquarters building, Asher will never get her out. Ivy, use that fucking journalist network now. Find out the feds' transfer route. Now!"
Ivy clamored at her keyboard with trembling hands. "Michael, if you do this, there's no turning back. Attacking the feds means declaring war on America."
"I stopped caring about the world when they buried my soul in that bridge, Ivy," I said, checking my spare magazines."Now, they will learn what happens when a man has nothing left to lose."
Time: 11:45 p.m.
O'Hare Highway Junction
The FBI's armored transport vehicle sped along, followed by two escort cars. Elara, handcuffed in the back of the vehicle, tried to make sense of the tears in her eyes.
Suddenly, a massive billboard on the highway crashed onto the road with a huge explosion. The vehicles screeched to a halt.
Out of the darkness, not a minivan, but a stolen fire truck burst forth. Michael Hale was at the wheel. He rammed the truck into the side of the armored vehicle with such force that it crashed through the barriers and rolled down the lower road.
Michael jumped out of the truck. He had a rifle in his hand and wore the "hunter" mask his father had left him.
"I've come to get my brother back," Michael muttered.
In the middle of the highway, with hundreds of police sirens approaching, Michael stood alone. He was no longer a psychologist. He was now Chicago's worst nightmare.