Chapter 5 - Fire on the WaterThe ballroom at Navy Pier was a spectacle of champagne flutes, silk gowns, and high-stakes politics.
As Dominic and I walked through the double doors hand in hand, a quiet murmur swept across the floor. Politicians, shipping magnates, and rival bosses turned their heads, their eyes darting between Dominic’s commanding presence and the unknown woman standing confidently at his side.
Salvatore sat at a raised table near the VIP balcony, surrounded by four dark-suited enforcers, holding a glass of scotch and glaring at us with unadulterated venom.
"Stay close to me," Dominic murmured into my ear as we moved toward the bar. "The harbor police chief is standing near the terrace. I need to spend two minutes confirming our dock lease extensions."
"Go," I said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Marcus is five feet behind me. I’m fine."
Dominic hesitated, looking into my eyes before giving a sharp nod and walking toward the harbor chief.
I stepped near the glass terrace doors, taking a small sip of sparkling water, watching the dark, moonlit waves of Lake Michigan crash against the concrete piers below. The evening air felt clean and cold compared to the heavy perfume inside the ballroom.
"It's a long drop into that water," a raspy voice whispered from the shadows behind the drapery.
I turned quickly.
Salvatore’s chief lieutenant—a broad, scarred man named Viktor—was standing right beside Marcus. But Marcus wasn't moving. I gasped in horror as I saw the small, silenced pistol pressed firmly against Marcus’s side beneath his jacket.
"Not a sound, little girl," Viktor sneered, grabbing my elbow with a vice-like grip and pulling me through the side exit door leading toward the service docks behind the ballroom. "Salvatore wants a private word with Dominic Vane's new prize."
Panic surged through my veins, but the cold clarity that had carried me through three years of survival took over. I didn't scream. Screaming would get Marcus killed immediately.
Instead, as Viktor dragged me down the metal service stairs toward the wet asphalt of the loading dock, I reached up with my free hand, unlatched the platinum emerald necklace Dominic had given me, and dropped it silently into the shadows beneath the staircase.
On the dark dock, two black vans were idling with their rear doors open.
Salvatore stood under a sodium street light, a cigarette hanging from his lips, watching as Viktor pushed me onto the cold concrete. Marcus was forced onto his knees beside me, his hands bound with heavy zip-ties.
"You see, Nadia," Salvatore smiled, stepping closer and blowing smoke into the chilly night air. "Dominic thinks he can take everything in this city. The docks, the real estate, the political favor. But he forgets that a man who cares about something is a man who can be broken."
"He's going to kill you, Salvatore," I said, my voice steady despite the sheer terror pounding in my chest. "He killed your ambush team on Wednesday, and he’ll finish you tonight."
Salvatore laughed—a dry, rattling sound. "He won't kill anyone tonight. Because in three minutes, I’m putting you on a boat to Montreal, and Dominic will hand over the West Loop port leases if he ever wants to see you breathe again."
Heavy footsteps echoed down the metal staircase behind us.
Salvatore’s smile died instantly.
Dominic walked out of the shadows into the harsh glare of the street lights. He wasn't running. He was walking slowly, deliberately, his right hand resting inside his tuxedo jacket, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying, apocalyptic rage that made the air on the dock freeze.
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In his left hand, he held the emerald necklace I had dropped beneath the stairs.
"Salvatore," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling growl that sounded like thunder over the water. "You touched something that belongs to me."
