Chapter 8 - Night of the Crimson Gala
The stone tunnel was freezing, dripping with groundwater, echoing with the distant thuds of gunfire above.
I carried Noah in my arms, ignoring the blinding pain in my healing ribs. Every breath felt like glass in my chest, but love and adrenaline pushed me forward through the dark.
"Clara," Noah whispered against my neck, his little arms wrapped tightly around my neck. "Is Daddy going to die?"
"No," I promised, tears streaming down my face as I stumbled down the damp steps. "Your daddy is the strongest man in the world. He's coming for us."
We reached the end of the tunnel. A heavy iron door led out into the boathouse at the edge of Lake Michigan. Rain lashed against the wooden docks outside, high waves crashing against the wooden stilts.
I pushed the iron door open, stepping onto the wooden floorboards of the boathouse. The sleek black wooden speedboat sat bobbing in the water.
"Well, well, well," a smooth, sinister voice echoed from the rafters above. "The little maid and the prize."
A flashlight clicked on, blinding me.
Standing near the boat dock was Lorenzo Vale. He wore dark tactical gear, holding a silenced submachine gun. On the left side of his neck, a crimson serpent tattoo coiled up toward his ear. Beside him stood three heavily armed mercenaries wearing gray urban camouflage.
"Lorenzo," I gasped, backing away slowly toward the dark corner.
"Dominic is a fool," Lorenzo chuckled softly, stepping down from the wooden platform. "He let his heart get soft over a dead woman and a damaged kid. New York offered me fifty percent of the Chicago territory to put an end to the Vale bloodline."
"He's your cousin!" I shouted over the sound of the storm outside. "He trusted you with his life!"
"Trust is for weak men, darling," Lorenzo sneered, raising his weapon, pointing it straight at my head. "Give me the boy, and I'll make your death quick."
"NO!"
Noah suddenly broke away from my grip, stepping in front of me, spreading his small arms wide to shield me.
"Don't touch my Clara!" the four-year-old boy screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing off the wooden beams.
Lorenzo laughed, a dark, cruel sound. "Look at that. The retard finally learned to talk. Too bad nobody will be alive to hear it."
Lorenzo raised his finger to the trigger.
BOOM!
The wooden roof of the boathouse exploded downward in a shower of splintered wood and glass!
A heavy figure dropped from the rafters like a vengeful angel, crashing directly onto Lorenzo, sending his weapon flying into the dark water below!
It was Dominic.
His suit was torn, stained with blood, his face covered in gunsmoke, but his eyes were pure fire.
Before the three mercenaries could react, Dominic pulled two combat knives from his vest, moving with terrifying, supernatural speed. In three fluid, lethal movements, the three mercenaries fell to the wooden floor, silent and motionless.
Lorenzo scrambled backward across the wet dock, reaching for a fallen pistol, but Dominic was already over him.
Dominic grabbed Lorenzo by his throat, lifting the grown man off his feet with one hand, slamming him violently against the wooden support pillar!
"Dominic! Please!" Lorenzo choked out, his eyes bulging with terror as Dominic’s fingers crushed his windpipe. "We're family! Blood!"
"You killed Elena," Dominic growled, his voice cold as the grave. "You tried to destroy my son. You are no blood of mine."
With a sickening CRACK, Dominic snapped Lorenzo’s neck. He tossed the lifeless body into the black, churning waters of Lake Michigan.
Dominic stood under the rain dripping through the ruined ceiling, his chest heaving. He turned around slowly.
I stood there holding Noah, both of us drenched in rain, watching him.
Dominic dropped his knives. He walked over to us, dropping to his knees, and wrapped his long arms around both of us, pulling us into a fierce, desperate embrace.
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Noah wrapped his tiny arms around his father's neck, sobbing quietly against his shoulder. "Daddy... Daddy..."
Dominic closed his eyes, burying his face in my neck, holding us as if the world were ending. "I've got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotions he had locked away for years. "I've got you both. You're safe."
