Chapter 9 - The Reckoning
Dominic escorted Hannah and the triplets up to the main warehouse floor, shielding them behind a wall of armored Vale soldiers.
The battle was almost over. Moretti’s men lay defeated across the concrete floor. At the center of the warehouse, surrounded by flames and broken crates, stood Don Vincenzo Moretti and the traitor, Marco.
Marco held a submachine gun, his eyes wide with terror as he saw Dominic walking toward him.
"You... you're supposed to be dead!" Marco screamed, raising his weapon.
Dominic didn't even flinch. He raised his handgun and fired twice. The bullets struck Marco in both kneecaps. Marco collapsed to his knees, screaming in agony as his weapon clattered away.
Dominic walked up to Marco, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against a concrete pillar. "You sold my family for fifty million dollars, Marco. Look at me."
Marco looked into Dominic's obsidian eyes and saw only death.
BANG.
Dominic dropped Marco's lifeless body to the floor and turned his gaze toward Vincenzo Moretti.
The old mob boss was trembling, leaning heavily on his cane. The cold arrogance in his eyes had been replaced by pure, unadulterated fear.
"Dominic... please," Vincenzo stammered, backing away toward a shattered window. "We are family! Julianna was my daughter! Those girls carry Moretti blood!"
"They don't carry your blood, Vincenzo," Dominic said, his voice ringing across the silent, burning warehouse. He pointed at Hannah, who was standing proudly near the entrance, holding their three daughters. "They carry her blood. The blood of an honorable woman."
Vincenzo backed up further, his foot slipping near the edge of the open cargo bay bay door overlooking the icy, rushing waters of the East River forty feet below.
"You won't kill me," Vincenzo whimpered. "You need my connections! You need my shipping lanes!"
"I don't need anything you own," Dominic said coldly.
He stepped forward and kicked Vincenzo's cane out of his hand. The old man lost his balance, screaming as he plummeted backward into the pitch-black, freezing waters of the river below.
Silence descended upon the warehouse.
Dominic turned around, dropping his weapon onto the concrete. The adrenaline fading from his system, his body gave out, and he collapsed onto his knees, gasping for air as his wounds bled profusely.
Hannah ran to him, dropping beside him on the floor, holding his head in her lap.
"Dominic! Stay with me! Please!" she sobbed, pressing her hands against his chest wounds.
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Dominic looked up at her, reaching up a blood-stained hand to cup her cheek. He smiled softly—a genuine, peaceful smile that lit up his dark features.
"We win, Hannah," he whispered softly before his eyes drifted shut, sinking into unconsciousness.
