Chapter 4 - The Strike at the Gate
Dominic’s reaction was instantaneous.
In a single fluid motion, he pulled Sophie behind him, shoving her into Claire’s arms. "Stay here. Lock the door. Put her under the desk."
"Dominic, what is it?" Claire gasped, her face pale with terror.
"Lock it!" Dominic commanded, his voice ringing with absolute authority.
He stepped out of the office, drawing a sleek, suppressed 9mm pistol from his shoulder holster with practiced ease. He moved down the hallway with terrifying, silent speed, taking the stairs three at a time.
In the main foyer of Harbor House, two heavy-set men in leather jackets were standing over Elena, the young assistant, who was cowering on the floor near a overturned bookshelf. One of the men had a crowbar in his hand; the other had his hand inside his jacket, clearly holding a weapon.
"Where’s the director?" the man with the crowbar growled, kicking a plastic toy out of his way. "Tell her Marcus Rossi wants a word about the money Vale was hiding here!"
"She... she’s upstairs!" Elena sobbed.
"Wrong answer," a cold voice echoed from the stairwell.
The two enforcers spun around.
Dominic stepped into the foyer. His face was a mask of deathly calm, but his eyes burned with an icy, lethal fury.
"Dominic Vale," the man with the crowbar sneered, pulling a revolver from his waist. "Rossi said you might be lurking around this charity dump—"
He never finished the sentence.
Dominic raised his pistol and fired two quick, precise shots. The first round shattered the crowbar man’s knee; the second pierced his shoulder. The man dropped to the floor with a agonized scream, dropping his weapon.
The second enforcer tried to draw his gun, but Dominic closed the distance instantly. He grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it upward until the bone snapped with a sickening crack, then brought a brutal elbow across the man's jaw, dropping him instantly unconscious onto the linoleum.
Dominic stood over the groaning men, his breath steady, his gun pointed straight at the head of the man clutching his shattered knee.
"Tell Marcus," Dominic whispered, his voice vibrating with pure malice, "that if any of his trash steps onto this street again, I won't just kill him. I will erase his entire bloodline from this city."
Outside, the screech of tires echoed as Noah Grant and three Vale enforcers burst through the front entrance, weapons drawn.
"Sir!" Noah called out, surveying the scene in seconds. "Are you hit?"
"I'm fine," Dominic snapped, lowering his weapon and thumbing the safety back on. "Clear these animals out of here. Drag them to our facility in South Boston. I want them questioned. Find out exactly what Rossi promised them."
"Right away, Mr. Vale," Noah said, waving his men forward to drag the two unconscious thugs out the back entrance.
Dominic stood in the middle of the ruined foyer. Toys were scattered everywhere, a bookshelf was broken, and the faint scent of gunpowder hung in the air.
He looked up at the top of the stairs.
Claire was standing there. She had come down just enough to see the end of the confrontation. She saw the blood on the floor, the cold efficiency with which Dominic had dispatched the men, and the lethal weapon in his hand.
She looked at him not with anger, but with a profound, terrifying realization of who and what he truly was.
"They came for us," Claire whispered, her voice trembling. "Because of you."
"They came because of my father's secrets," Dominic corrected her, stepping toward the stairs. "And as long as Marcus Rossi thinks there is something here to steal, you and Sophie are in danger."
"Then leave!" Claire cried out, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "Take your money, take your guards, and get out of our lives! We were safe before your father died!"
"You were never safe!" Dominic roared, his composure breaking for a split second. "You were living on borrowed time funded by a mob boss's blood money! Rossi knows about this place now. He won't stop until he burns it down to find whatever ledger my father hid!"
Claire covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Dominic took a deep breath, forcing his heart rate back down. He wiped his bloody knuckles with a handkerchief from his pocket and stepped closer to her, his tone softening just a fraction.
"I am not my father, Claire," Dominic said softly. "Vincent left you to twist in the wind. I won't. You and Sophie are coming with me."
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"No," Claire shook her head fiercely. "I am not taking Sophie into your dark world."
"You don't have a choice," Dominic said firmly. "Rossi’s men know her face now. Until I finish this war with the Rossi family, you stay under my protection. Packing takes ten minutes. Move."
