Chapter 3 - The Gathering StormTwo heavy flashbang grenades bounced across the hardwood floor, detonating in quick succession with blinding white light and thunderous explosions.
Vance screamed, clutching his eyes as the concussive force knocked him off his feet. Clara shrieked, collapsing behind the desk, covering her ears as thick white smoke began to billow through the room.
Dominic, who had anticipated the breach the moment he closed the doors, had already dropped low, pulling his Sig Sauer from his jacket.
The patio doors were kicked completely off their hinges. Eddie, holding a tactical shotgun, stepped through the smoke, followed by four heavily armed men in dark tactical gear—Dominic’s personal, elite security detail from the Newark docks.
Within three seconds, Vance’s gun was kicked across the room, and Vance himself was slammed face-first onto the hardwood floor, Eddie’s heavy boot pressing firmly into the back of his neck.
“Clear!” Eddie barked, sweeping the room with his shotgun before lowering it and looking down at Vance. “Got the fake driver outside, boss. Tied him to the steering wheel. The other three guys in the woods didn't put up much of a fight once Paulie showed up with the heavy rifles.”
Dominic stood up smoothly, dusting off his knees. He walked over to the desk and looked down at Clara, who was curled in a ball on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, her expensive ivory coat ruined by soot and broken glass.
“Dominic... please!” she begged, looking up at him with terrified, tear-filled eyes. “He forced me! Marcus threatened to kill me if I didn't give him the security codes! He’s been blackmailing me for months! You know I love you, Dominic! Please... mercy!”
Dominic looked down at her with a profound, terrifying emptiness.
Six years. He had shared his home, his table, and his life with this woman. He had trusted her with his safety. He would have burned cities to protect her if someone had threatened her.
“You threatened a seven-year-old girl, Clara,” Dominic said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, yet carrying more weight than the thunder outside. “You told Lily Hart that you would ruin her father’s life if she spoke. That wasn't Marcus. That was you.”
Clara’s sobbing stopped instantly. Her mouth remained open, but no words came out. She realized, with absolute certainty, that her lie had failed completely.
Dominic turned his back on her and stepped over to Vance, who was groaning under Eddie’s boot.
Dominic knelt down, taking Vance by his hair and pulling his head up so their eyes met.
“Who else, Marcus?” Dominic asked softly. “Florida? Chicago? Who paid you to coordinate this?”
Vance spat blood onto the floor, a desperate, hateful grin on his face. “Go to hell, Bellini. You’re an old man. Your time is past. The young guys are taking over. Even if you kill me today, you can’t stop what’s coming! You’re alone!”
“I am not alone,” Dominic replied quietly. “I have loyalty. Something a dog like you could never understand.”
Dominic stood up and looked at Eddie.
“Take them both to the basement wine cellar,” Dominic ordered calmly. “Keep them secure. No one speaks to them until I return.”
Eddie frowned slightly. “Where are you going, boss? Florida? We need to lock down the docks.”
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Dominic looked out the shattered window toward the north gardens, where the sun was warming the tops of the green pine trees.
“I have an appointment at a diner on Route 9,” Dominic said. “I promised a friend I’d meet her.”
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