Chapter 5 - The Ambush
The basement lounge doors were kicked open so hard they slammed against the stone walls.
Dominick and Frank jumped up, drawing their weapons instantly, but lowered them when they saw Elena stumbling into the room, her eyes wild, her uniform torn, clutching the bloody Moretti napkin in her trembling hand.
"They took her!" Elena shrieked, her voice cracking into pure, unfiltered madness. "THEY TOOK MY BABY!"
Frank’s face turned white. He grabbed his radio. "Team Two, respond! What is the status of the second-floor corridor?!"
Static crackled through the speaker, followed by a weak, blood-choked voice: "Frank... they came through the laundry chute... Moretti's men... they had heavy suppressed weapons... team is down..."
Dominick slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk with the force of a thunderclap. The heavy wood groaned under the impact.
"How did Moretti know the baby was in the prep room?!" Dominick roared, his eyes flashing with lethal fury. "Only five people in this building knew that room was occupied!"
Frank looked at the ground, horror seizing his features. "Marco."
"What?" Elena choked out.
"Marco, the head chef," Frank whispered, realizing the truth. "His gambling debts to Moretti were cleared last week. He was the one who set up the prep room schedule today."
Before Frank could finish his sentence, Dominick moved with terrifying speed. He pulled a silver 9mm pistol from his desk drawer, racked the slide with a sharp metal snap, and looked at Frank.
"Find Marco. Put him in the cellar," Dominick commanded, his voice dropping into a register that sounded like cold steel dragging over ice. "And call the strike team. All of them."
"Dominick, wait," Frank warned. "If we hit Moretti's main compound in Cicero, it’s an all-out war. The feds will be all over us."
"I don't give a damn about the feds!" Dominick screamed, turning his terrifying gaze onto Frank. "A child was taken from beneath my roof! My sister’s blood runs on these streets, Frank, and I will tear this entire city down to the bedrock before I let another child die because of these bastards!"
He turned to Elena, his expression softening just a fraction.
"Stay here," Dominick told her softly. "My men will protect you."
"No!" Elena yelled, grabbing Dominick’s lapel with both hands, refusing to let go. "I'm coming with you!"
"Elena, it’s a war zone—"
"I don't care if it's hell!" she screamed into his face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "She is MY DAUGHTER! If you walk into that house without me, I will follow you on foot! You bring me with you, or you kill me right here!"
Dominick looked down at the small, fierce mother gripping his suit jacket. In her burning eyes, he saw no fear—only the ancient, unstoppable rage of a mother whose child had been stolen.
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Dominick slowly reached into his holster, pulled a small, sleek concealable revolver, and placed it into Elena’s shaking hands.
"Keep your safety on until I tell you," Dominick said quietly. "Let's go get your daughter."
