Chapter 3 - The Blood on the Altar
The assault on the red brick house was not a negotiation; it was a execution.
Before the two guards at the front door could even raise their weapons, Miles and three Moretti marksmen fired four synchronized shots through the rain. The guards collapsed into the mud without making a sound.
Miles kicked the heavy steel door open, and Dominic stepped inside the dark, cavernous hallway.
The smell inside was thick with mold, old rust, and copper—the unmistakable scent of blood.
Shouts echoed from the upper floor as Frank’s remaining mercenaries realized the perimeter had been breached. Footsteps thundered down the wooden staircase.
"MORETTI!" a voice yelled from the shadows above. "FRANK SAID YOU WERE—"
Dominic didn't let the man finish. He raised his weapon and fired three precise shots through the wooden banister. The man tumbled down the stairs, crashing onto the hardwood floor at Dominic’s feet.
Dominic walked past the body without glancing down. He moved through the ground floor like a force of nature, his men fanning out behind him, clearing room after room with systematic, lethal efficiency.
In the rear kitchen area, hidden behind a false pantry door, a set of concrete steps led down into a damp, windowless basement.
A woman's scream echoed up the stairwell, followed by the heavy sound of a slap.
"Where did the kid go, Anna?! Tell me where she went or I swear to God I'll put a bullet through Caleb's knee!"
Dominic’s eyes turned into liquid fire. He descended the concrete steps with silent, predator grace.
At the bottom of the stairs, in a small room illuminated by a single hanging lightbulb, a woman was tied to a wooden chair. Her face was bruised, a cut open above her left eye, blood staining her white cotton shirt.
This was Anna Miller.
Lying on the damp concrete floor beside her, bound in iron chains, was her brother Caleb—a thin, pale man in his early thirties whose hands were swollen and bloody from hours of interrogation.
Standing over them was Vinnie "The Butcher" Bellini—Frank’s younger brother, the disgraced coroner who had forged Elena’s death certificate six years ago. Vinnie was holding a heavy brass knuckles in his right hand, his face slick with sweat.
Vinnie turned around as the sound of footsteps reached the doorway.
"Who the hell—"
Vinnie froze. His jaw dropped, the brass knuckles slipping from his fingers, clattering against the concrete floor.
Dominic stood in the doorway. He was drenched in rain, his suit stained with black ink and blood, holding a silver gun pointed directly between Vinnie’s eyes.
"D-Dominic..." Vinnie stammered, raising his bloody hands, his knees trembling so violently he nearly fell over. "Dominic... listen to me... Frank made me do it! I'm just a doctor! I didn't want any part of this!"
Dominic walked slowly across the room. He didn't shoot. He reached out, grabbed Vinnie by his throat, and lifted the two-hundred-pound man off the floor with one arm, slamming him against the brick wall with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.
"Where is she, Vinnie?" Dominic whispered, his voice vibrating through the concrete walls.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about!" Vinnie choked out, his eyes bulging as Dominic’s grip tightened.
Dominic lowered his weapon, pressed the hot barrel of his pistol directly against Vinnie’s left kneecap, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Vinnie shrieked in absolute agony, his body thrashing against the brick as blood sprayed across the floor.
"WHERE IS MY WIFE?" Dominic roared, his voice shattering the lightbulb above, leaving the room illuminated only by the faint red glow of the emergency exit sign.
"SAINT JUDE’S!" Vinnie screamed, sobbing hysterically, clutching his shattered leg. "SAINT JUDE’S ASYLUM IN VERMONT! IT'S A PRIVATE SANATORIUM OWNED BY FRANK’S TRUST! SHE’S IN ROOM 304! THEY KEEP HER SEDATED! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE!"
Dominic looked at the weeping, broken man before him.
"You signed her death certificate," Dominic said softly. "You let my daughter grow up in a closet."
Dominic pulled the trigger a second time.
He turned away as Vinnie’s body dropped lifelessly to the floor.
Dominic pulled a silver pocket knife from his vest and walked over to Anna Miller. With two quick slashes, he severed the heavy ropes binding her arms and legs.
Anna collapsed forward, but Dominic caught her gently, holding her upright. She looked up into his face through her swollen eyes, her breath catching as she recognized his silver-gray eyes.
"Sophie..." Anna gasped, her voice raw and breaking. "Did she... did she make it to you?"
"She made it," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a tone of profound, humble respect. He reached down, helping Caleb up from the floor, supporting both of them. "She gave me the tape, Anna. She saved my life."
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Anna covered her face with her bruised hands and sobbed—not from pain, but from pure, overwhelming relief. "I tried to protect her, Mr. Moretti... I tried to keep her safe from Frank..."
"You gave her six years of love when I wasn't there to protect her," Dominic said, looking into Anna’s face with absolute sincerity. "You are her mother, Anna. And as long as I draw breath, you and your brother are under the protection of the Moretti family."
