He Left Me Bleeding in a Boston Alley... Then the Waitress Who Was Supposed to Fear Me Opened the Secret My Brother Had Killed to Bury

Vincent turned, his eyes widening in shock as he saw me standing in the kitchen doorway. I was a ghastly sight—covered in frost, blood, and grime, holding two guns with trembling hands.

"Dominic," Vincent whispered, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face before it was replaced by a snarl. "You're harder to kill than a cockroach."

"Run!" I shouted to Clara.

Clara didn't hesitate. She grabbed Lily from the floor and dove behind the heavy wooden counter just as Jimmy opened fire.

The diner erupted into a deafening storm of gunfire.

Bullets shattered the glass pie display case, sending shards of glass and sugar flying through the air. I dove behind a leather booth, my ribs screaming in agony as I hit the floor.

I returned fire, shooting twice through the vinyl seats. One of my bullets caught Jimmy in the shoulder, spinning him around. He stumbled back, his gun falling from his hand.

Vincent, realizing the tide had turned, grabbed Jimmy by his jacket and dragged him out the front door into the pouring rain.

"This isn't over, Dominic!" Vincent screamed as he fled. "I'll burn this city down before I let you have that ledger!"

The sound of a heavy engine roaring to life echoed from the street, followed by the screech of tires as their black sedan sped away into the dark.

Silence returned to the diner, broken only by the hiss of broken steam pipes and Clara’s soft, trembling breaths from behind the counter.

I lay on the floor, my guns resting on the linoleum, my chest heaving. The adrenaline was leaving my system, and the cold was returning with a vengeance. My vision was starting to dim at the edges.

"Dominic?"

Clara’s voice was hesitant. She peeked over the counter, her eyes wide as she saw the destruction of her diner. She ran over to me, kneeling by my side.

"You're bleeding again," she said, her fingers pressing against my temple where the stitches had torn open during the fight. "And you're freezing."

"We have... we have to go," I whispered, my voice fading. "Vincent will be back with more men. The police will be here in minutes."

"Where do we go?" she asked, her voice cracking. "My apartment is down the street. They know where I live."

"The Provident Bank," I said, reaching into my pocket and forcing the silver key into her hand. "The safety deposit box. We get the ledger. It’s our only leverage."

Clara looked at the key in her hand, then at Lily, who was peeking out from behind the counter, clutching her whale umbrella.

"Okay," Clara said, her voice turning solid. "But you're not driving. You look like a corpse."

She helped me stand, my arm draped over her shoulders. With Lily clutching her mother’s coat, we walked out the back exit into the freezing Boston rain, leaving the ruined diner and Marcus's body behind.