Chapter 9 - The Wrath of a Father
On the other side of the city, Dominic’s phone flared to life with the emergency panic room alert.
The color drained from his face. "Gabriel! The penthouse! Now!"
The armored SUV tore through the Chicago streets like a black bullet, running red lights and mounting sidewalks. Dominic’s heart was hammering against his ribs—not with the calculated rhythm of a mob boss, but with the frantic, terrified pulse of a father whose children were cornered.
When they arrived at the tower, the lobby was a war zone. Two of Dominic’s security men lay wounded near the elevators. Dominic didn't wait for the lift; he led his elite tactical crew up the emergency stairs, his weapon drawn, his face a mask of absolute, murderous fury.
They breached the penthouse floor on the 40th story. Three of Matteo’s mercenaries were in the hallway, preparing a thermal charge to blast the panic room door.
Dominic didn't give orders. He opened fire.
The hallway erupted into a symphony of gunfire. Dominic moved with terrifying precision, taking down two operatives before they could even pivot their weapons. The third mercenary attempted to fire back, but Gabriel flanked him, neutralizing the threat instantly.
Dominic kicked open the ruined front door of his penthouse, his boots crunching on the shattered glass. He rushed to the master closet, his hands shaking as he punched his biometric code into the panic room panel.
"Elena! It’s me! Open the door!" he roared.
The steel door clicked, sliding open. Elena looked up, her face tear-stained, the three children huddled behind her. When Caleb saw Dominic, he broke away from his mother and ran straight into Dominic’s arms.
May you like
"Daddy! You came!" the boy sobbed, burying his face in Dominic’s neck.
Dominic held his son tightly, his eyes shutting as he breathed in the boy’s scent. He looked over at Elena, his voice cold as ice. "It ends tonight. Gabriel, bring me Matteo."
