Chapter 6 - The Poison in the Well
The second guard turned his rifle toward her, but Bea didn't cower. She threw her entire body forward, slamming her hip and shoulder into his chest, pinning him against the iron wine racks. Bottles of vintage wine crashed to the floor, shattering into pools of red that looked like blood in the dim emergency lighting.
“Get off him, you fat cow!” Julian snarled, drawing a silver revolver from inside his coat.
Before Julian could raise the barrel, a shadow detached itself from the top of the stairs like a falling thunderbolt.
A single gunshot cracked through the cellar.
The revolver flew from Julian’s hand as a bullet tore through his wrist, spraying bone and blood across the white concrete. Julian screamed, collapsing to his knees, clutching his mangled arm.
Dominic Bellmore walked down the steps.
He looked like an ancient god of war. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, dark blood smeared across his cheekbone, his eyes burning with an unholy, lethal fury. Behind him, Ross and four stone-faced enforcers poured into the room, disarming the pinned guard and securing the perimeter in three seconds flat.
Dominic didn't look at Julian.
His eyes scanned the cellar until they landed on Bea. She stood among the shattered glass, breathing hard, her dress stained with red wine, her hands scratched, but standing tall between the intruders and the secret wall alcove.
“Beatrice,” Dominic’s voice broke on her name. He crossed the floor, ignoring Julian’s agonized groans, and grabbed Bea by the upper arms. His touch was fierce, checking her over with frantic desperation. “Are you hit? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” Bea panted, her voice shaking now that the adrenaline was waning. “The girls... the girls are safe. In the wall.”
Dominic closed his eyes for one second, his forehead dropping against Bea’s shoulder in a gesture of raw, unadulterated relief. The heat of his body, the ragged sound of his breath against her neck, sent a violent shiver through her.
“You kept them safe,” he whispered against her skin. “You kept them safe.”
“Dominic...” Julian sobbed from the floor, his fingers slick with crimson. “Dominic, listen to me! It was the Moretti family—they paid me—they forced my hand—”
Bea pulled away from Dominic gently and pointed toward the small iron door. “He’s lying, Dominic.”
She reached behind the crate and pulled out Elena’s leather-bound diary and the encrypted drive. She held them out.
“Elena left this for you,” Bea said, her voice clear and unwavering. “Three years ago. Julian tampered with her car. He murdered your wife because she found out he was stealing from you.”
The silence that followed was more terrifying than the gunfire outside.
Dominic turned slowly. The relief in his face vanished, replaced by an expression so cold, so devoid of human mercy, that even the hardened guards behind him shifted their feet.
He took the diary from Bea’s hand. He recognized his late wife’s script instantly. He read three lines from the final entry, his hand tightening on the leather until the binding cracked.
Dominic walked toward Julian.
Julian backed away on his knees, trailing blood across the floor, his face gray with the certainty of death. “Dominic, please... we grew up together! Our fathers were partners!”
“You let me bury her,” Dominic said, his voice flat, devoid of rage, which made it infinitely more horrific. “You sat in the front row of the cathedral. You held my daughters’ hands while they cried into the dirt.”
Dominic raised his weapon.
“Dominic, no!” Bea’s voice cut through the cellar like a bell.
Dominic didn't lower the gun, but his jaw twitched. “Stay out of this, Beatrice. This is syndicate business. This is blood for blood.”
“The girls are ten feet away!” Bea shouted, stepping between Dominic and Julian. She didn't flinch from the barrel of the gun. She looked directly into Dominic’s tortured gray eyes. “Do you want Gia and Frankie to hear you execute a man in cold blood? Do you want their mother’s memory to end with another murder in this basement?”
Dominic glared at her, his chest heaving. “He took their mother!”
“And if you turn into a monster in front of them, he’ll take their father too!” Bea yelled back, stepping closer until her chest was pressed against the slide of his weapon. “Let the law have him. Let him rot in an federal penitentiary with Elena’s evidence. Give your daughters their father back, Dominic. Don't let Julian win.”
For ten agonizing seconds, the cellar was dead silent save for Julian’s weeping.
Dominic stared into Bea’s eyes—wide, hazel, burning with fierce, unconditional compassion. Nobody had ever stood in front of his gun. Nobody had ever dared to tell Dominic Bellmore how to handle vengeance.
Slowly, Dominic lowered the weapon.
He handed the gun to Ross without breaking eye contact with Bea. “Call the United States Attorney. Give them the drive, the ledger, and Julian. If he dies before he reaches federal custody, Ross, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
“Understood, boss,” Ross said, dragging Julian toward the stairs.
When the cellar was cleared, Dominic stood alone with Bea in the dim light. The silence wrapped around them like a heavy blanket.
Dominic reached up, his large, calloused fingers cupping the side of Bea’s face. He didn't say a word. He pulled her forward and pressed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was fierce, desperate, and filled with three years of unspent grief, gratitude, and an overwhelming, consuming hunger. Bea gasped against his mouth, her hands coming up to grip the lapels of his shirt, leaning her soft, full body into his solid frame. Dominic groaned low in his throat, wrapping an arm around her waist, lifting her slightly, burying his hands in her chestnut hair as if she were the only real thing in a crumbling world.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing hard.
“Thirty days,” Dominic murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
“What?” Bea asked, dazed.
May you like
“Your contract was for thirty days,” he whispered, his thumb caressing her lower lip. “Cancel it. You aren't leaving this house. Ever.”
***
