Chapter 5 - The Fall of Calder
The peace we had bought at the gala was short-lived.
On Monday morning, the final strike began.
I was in the kitchen with Sophie, helping her make chocolate chip cookies. We had flour on our noses, chocolate on our hands, and the sound of children's songs playing from a small radio on the counter. It was the first time in a month that the house had felt like a home instead of a fortress.
Then, the kitchen doors burst open.
Dominic walked in, his face pale, his dark eyes filled with a frantic, desperate energy. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket; his white shirt was stained with grease and oil, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
"Teresa," Dominic said, his voice sharp as a razor. "Take Sophie to the safe room. Now."
"Dominic?" I asked, standing up, my hands still covered in dough. "What is it?"
"The waterfront warehouse," Dominic said, his hand grabbing my wrist, his grip so tight it left a red mark. "Calder’s men set fire to the shipping containers. They’ve blocked the main road to the estate. He’s not trying to sneak in this time, Emma. He brought everything. He has forty men at the gates."
I looked at Sophie, who was already crying as Teresa pulled her toward the basement stairs.
"I'm not going to the safe room, Dominic," I said, my voice firm.
"You have to," he said, his hands grabbing my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. "Emma, please. This is different. He wants to burn this place to the ground. I have to go to the gates to hold them off until the police arrive—"
"The police won't come in time," I said. "And you know it. If you go to the gates alone, you’ll die."
"I am the Don of the Vale family!" he roared, his voice shaking the copper pots that hung from the ceiling. "It is my job to die for what I protect!"
"And it is my job to make sure you don't!" I screamed back.
Dominic stopped. He looked at me, his chest heaving, his dark eyes wide with a realization that seemed to terrify him more than the forty men at his gates.
He loved me.
It wasn't a word he had said, but it was there, written in the lines of his face, in the grip of his hands, in the way he looked at me as if I were the only clean thing in his dirty, violent world.
"I can't lose you," he whispered, his voice dropping to a broken, ragged sound.
"You won't," I said, reaching up and cup-ping his face with my dirty, flour-covered hands. "We have the security system. We have the generators. And we have the secret tunnel that runs from the conservatory to the old boathouse. You told me about it last week."
Dominic’s eyes lit up. "The boathouse. The armored launch is still there."
"We get Sophie, we get Teresa, and we leave through the tunnel," I said. "Let them have the house, Dominic. It’s just stone. You can rebuild stone. You can't rebuild us."
"Us," he repeated, the word tasting sweet on his lips.
"Yes," I said. "Us."
The escape through the tunnel was dark, damp, and smelled of wet earth and old brick.
I carried Sophie on my good shoulder, her small arms wrapped tightly around my neck, her tears wet against my collarbone. Dominic walked ahead of us, his gun drawn, his flashlight cutting through the thick, black fog of the underground passage.
Behind us, we could hear the distant, muffled sound of explosions as Calder’s men breached the main house.
"Almost there," Dominic whispered, stopping at a heavy iron door at the end of the tunnel. He pushed it open, and the cold, salt-scented air of the harbor rushed in to meet us.
The boathouse was silent, the dark waters of Lake Michigan lapping against the wooden pilings. Floating in the center slip was a sleek, black armored launch—a boat designed to withstand automatic gunfire and cut through the water at fifty knots.
"Get in," Dominic said, helping Teresa and Sophie onto the deck.
I turned to follow them, but before I could step onto the boat, a voice cut through the darkness of the boathouse.
"Going somewhere, Dominic?"
I froze.
Standing on the wooden walkway near the entrance of the boathouse was Grant Calder.
He was alone, his hair wet from the rain, his coat open to reveal a silver-plated revolver in his hand. He looked like a man who had lost his mind, his eyes wild, his mouth twisted in a manic, desperate grin.
"I knew about the tunnel, Dominic," Calder laughed, his voice echoing off the wooden rafters. "Your father built it in seventy-eight. Did you really think I wouldn't check the boathouse?"
Dominic stepped in front of me, his gun pointed directly at Calder’s chest.
"It’s over, Grant," Dominic said, his voice flat and cold. "Your men are currently being rounded up by the state police. I leaked the location of your drug warehouse to the FBI two hours ago. By morning, your entire empire will be gone."
"I don't care about the empire!" Calder screamed, his arm shaking as he raised the revolver. "I care about you! I care about what you took from me!"
He pulled the trigger.
Bang.
The sound was deafening inside the enclosed boathouse.
The bullet struck the metal hull of the launch, ricocheting with a sharp, screaming hiss. Dominic fired back, his shot striking Calder in the shoulder, spinning him around.
Calder let out a howl of pain, but he didn't drop his gun. He lunged forward, his body striking Dominic’s with the force of a dying animal.
They tumbled off the walkway and into the dark, freezing water of the slip.
"Dominic!" I screamed.
I ran to the edge of the slip, my eyes searching the black, churning water. The two men were locked in a desperate, silent struggle beneath the surface, their bubbles rising in a frantic, silvery cloud.
Then, a hand reached out of the water.
It was Calder’s hand, his fingers clawing at the wooden edge of the slip. He dragged himself up, his face covered in blood and water, his revolver still clutched in his hand. He pointed the gun directly at my chest.
"You," he gasped, his teeth red with blood. "You... ruined... everything."
He squeezed the trigger.
But the gun didn't fire. It let out a dry, empty click. The water had ruined the firing pin.
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Before he could realize what had happened, a shadow rose from the water behind him.
Dominic emerged like a sea monster, his hands wrapping around Calder’s collar. With a single, mighty heave, he dragged the rival boss back into the depths, holding him beneath the surface until the bubbles stopped rising, and the water went completely, utterly still.
