Chapter 8 - The Last War of Dominic CorsoThe first warning came in the form of fire.
Warehouse Two burned at midnight.
No employees were inside.
That was deliberate.
The second warning arrived twenty-four hours later.
One of Dominic’s legitimate construction sites was vandalized.
Across the concrete foundation, someone painted five words:
YOU DON’T GET TO LEAVE.
Carmine stared at the message.
“So much for retirement.”
Dominic remained inside the SUV.
Fay sat beside him.
“Who?”
“Could be anybody.”
Carmine looked toward Dominic.
“Half the old crews are worried.”
“They think if you legitimize everything, their income disappears.”
Dominic nodded.
“They’re right.”
Carmine frowned.
“You’re not exactly helping.”
“They can work legitimate security.”
“For taxes?”
Fay looked at Carmine.
“Terrifying, isn’t it?”
Carmine shuddered.
“I’ve been shot twice.”
“I’d rather do that again than fill out a W-2.”
Dominic almost smiled.
But the situation was not funny.
Over the next week, three captains disappeared.
Two returned.
One did not.
Rumors spread.
A name began circulating.
Vincent Rizzo.
Dominic knew him well.
Rizzo had worked for Dominic’s father for thirty years.
He believed violence was tradition.
He believed fear was leadership.
And he believed Dominic’s reforms were betrayal.
“He’ll come for the estate,” Carmine said.
They were in the war room.
Fay hated that the estate had a room everyone casually called the war room.
Maps covered the table.
Security feeds glowed on monitors.
Dominic studied them.
“No.”
Carmine frowned.
“No?”
“He wants me to think like my father.”
“Fortify.”
“Gather soldiers.”
“Start executing suspected traitors.”
Dominic leaned back.
“That’s how he wins.”
“Then what?”
“We close everything illegal tomorrow.”
Carmine stared.
“All of it?”
“All.”
“Dominic, that’s millions.”
“Yes.”
“Cash routes?”
“Closed.”
“Sports books?”
“Closed.”
“Protection?”
“Done.”
“The clubs?”
“Legitimate licensing or shut them.”
Carmine rubbed his face.
“People are going to panic.”
“Let them.”
Dominic looked at Fay.
“I should have done this years ago.”
Fay said nothing.
This decision had to be his.
The following morning, Dominic Corso dismantled half the empire his father had spent forty years building.
Money vanished.
Alliances broke.
Men cursed his name.
Others quietly accepted legitimate employment.
Some simply walked away.
Rizzo responded exactly as expected.
He kidnapped Carmine.
Fay learned at 6:30 that evening.
Dominic’s phone rang during dinner.
He answered.
Rizzo’s voice filled the speaker.
“Your father would be ashamed.”
Dominic’s face became stone.
“Where is Carmine?”
“Alive.”
A muffled sound came through the phone.
Carmine.
“Boss, don’t—”
A blow.
Silence.
Fay’s stomach twisted.
Rizzo continued.
“Warehouse Nine.”
“Midnight.”
“Come alone.”
“Bring the ledgers.”
“The old accounts.”
“Every name.”
“You know what I want.”
Dominic looked toward Fay.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The call ended.
Fay immediately said:
“No.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“You’re going.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“He’ll kill Carmine.”
“He’ll kill you too.”
“Probably.”
“Dominic.”
“I owe him.”
“Carmine would tell you not to go.”
“He did.”
Fay stood.
“So that’s it?”
“You spent months learning that your life matters and now you throw it away?”
“I’m not throwing it away.”
“You’re going into a trap.”
“Yes.”
“That is literally throwing it away.”
Dominic wheeled closer.
“Fay.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“No.”
“You don’t get to make me love you and then decide you’re expendable.”
Dominic froze.
It was the first time she had said it.
Love.
Not implied.
Not hidden.
Spoken.
Fay was crying now.
She hated crying.
That made her angrier.
“I love you.”
“And I am not spending the rest of my life telling myself you died because some dead man’s criminal employee challenged your pride.”
“This isn’t pride.”
“Then prove it.”
“How?”
“Don’t go alone.”
Dominic stared.
Rizzo had demanded the old Dominic.
One man.
One gun.
One act of vengeance.
Fay was asking him to become something else.
Dominic picked up his phone.
He called Salvatore Bellini.
Then another member of the Commission.
Then an attorney.
Then, finally, a federal contact his legitimate lawyers had quietly established.
By eleven-thirty, Warehouse Nine was surrounded.
Not by Dominic’s soldiers.
By law enforcement.
Rizzo did not know.
Dominic entered alone.
That part could not change.
A hidden transmitter had been sewn into his jacket.
Fay remained in a surveillance van three blocks away.
She hated every second.
Warehouse Nine smelled of rust and damp concrete.
It was the place where Dominic’s father had ordered Daniel Gable killed.
Rizzo had chosen it deliberately.
Dominic rolled inside.
Carmine was tied to a chair.
Blood covered one side of his face.
Rizzo stood behind him.
Six armed men surrounded the room.
“Dominic.”
“Vincent.”
Rizzo looked at the wheelchair.
Disgust crossed his face.
“Your father built an empire.”
“You turned it into a real-estate company.”
“My father built a graveyard.”
“He built respect.”
“He built fear.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Dominic looked at Carmine.
“Not anymore.”
Rizzo smiled.
“The ledgers.”
Dominic placed a leather case on the floor.
One of Rizzo’s men collected it.
Opened it.
Blank paper.
Rizzo’s expression changed.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
Dominic folded his hands.
“I think it’s over.”
Rizzo pulled a gun.
He pressed it against Carmine’s head.
“Give me the real books.”
“There are no books.”
“I burned them.”
Rizzo’s face twisted.
“Then you killed your friend.”
Dominic looked at Carmine.
Carmine smiled through the blood.
“Told you not to come, boss.”
Dominic looked back at Rizzo.
“I didn’t come alone.”
Rizzo froze.
Outside, lights exploded through the warehouse windows.
Loudspeakers.
Commands.
Weapons lowered.
Rizzo grabbed Carmine and fired toward the entrance.
Chaos erupted.
Dominic dropped from his wheelchair.
Bullets struck steel.
Carmine threw himself sideways.
Rizzo ran.
Dominic saw him heading toward a rear exit.
Old instinct screamed.
Gun.
Kill him.
Finish it.
Dominic had a pistol inside his jacket.
His hand touched it.
Then stopped.
He remembered Fay.
You don’t get to decide you’re expendable.
He removed his hand.
Rizzo reached the rear door.
Federal agents tackled him outside.
Alive.
The old Dominic would have hated that.
The new Dominic felt something unexpected.
Relief.
Twenty minutes later, Fay ran into the warehouse.
Dominic was sitting on the floor beside his wheelchair.
She dropped beside him.
“You idiot.”
“I had a plan.”
“You were shot at.”
“Technically they shot around me.”
Fay slapped his shoulder.
“Ow.”
Then she kissed him.
Hard.
Agents pretended not to watch.
Carmine, being loaded into an ambulance, shouted:
“Get a room!”
Fay laughed against Dominic’s mouth.
The last war of Dominic Corso ended without an execution.
Rizzo testified.
So did others.
Dominic surrendered records documenting years of criminal operations under his father and his own leadership.
His lawyers negotiated.
Dominic was not innocent.
He never pretended to be.
There were consequences.
Asset forfeitures.
Fines.
Years of legal battles.
Several businesses were seized.
But Dominic’s cooperation exposed corrupt officials, violent crews, and trafficking networks he had refused to participate in.
The legitimate companies survived.
So did he.
Six months later, Dominic stood for twelve seconds.
With braces.
Parallel bars.
And Fay screaming louder than his physical therapist.
At thirteen seconds, he fell.
Fay caught him.
Again.
She always seemed to.
Dominic sat on the mat laughing.
Fay knelt in front of him.
“You did thirteen.”
“Twelve.”
“Thirteen.”
“You count generously.”
“I bill generously too.”
Dominic took her hand.
Then his expression became serious.
“Marry me.”
Fay stared.
“What?”
Dominic reached beneath the therapy bench.
Fay’s eyes widened.
“No.”
His face fell.
“You haven’t even seen the ring.”
“That is exactly why I’m saying no.”
“Fay.”
“No.”
She pointed at him.
“You are not proposing to me sweaty on a therapy-room floor.”
Dominic looked genuinely offended.
“I thought it was meaningful.”
“It smells like feet.”
“Romance is subjective.”
“Try again.”
Dominic slowly smiled.
“So that isn’t a no?”
Fay stood.
“It is a no to this proposal.”
She walked toward the door.
Dominic called after her.
“What kind of proposal do you want?”
Fay looked back.
May you like
“Figure it out.”
Then she left him laughing on the floor.
