Chapter 3 - Dominic stopped 1 ft away.
A storm moved through his gray eyes—furious possessiveness mixed with unmistakable awe.
He slowly turned toward the others.
“Leave us.”
“Boss, we need a strategy—”
“Get out.”
The men left immediately.
The heavy door closed.
Dominic crossed the remaining distance, seized Sadi by the hips, and lifted her onto the edge of the mahogany desk, scattering the maps.
He stepped between her knees and gripped her waist.
“Do you have a death wish? Defying me in front of my lieutenants?”
“I’m not defying you. I’m waking you up. You’re thinking like a boss protecting his territory. Lorenzo isn’t thinking about territory. He’s thinking about his ego. If you attack his warehouses, he’ll dig in behind his army.”
“And what exactly is your strategic expertise, Sadi? Scraping chewing gum off diner tables?”
It was a low blow, born from fear and adrenaline.
Sadi did not flinch.
“My expertise is knowing how pathetic, fragile men operate. I served them coffee for 10 years. Lorenzo wants to humiliate you. He can only do that by taking what you just publicly claimed.”
Dominic’s grip tightened around her waist.
“He will never touch you.”
“I know.”
Sadi’s eyes softened.
She touched the rough stubble along his jaw.
“Because we’re going to hand-deliver me to him. And when he reaches out to take me, you’re going to cut his hand off.”
The plan became a nightmare of logistics and calculated risk.
Dominic fought against it for 1 hour.
He tore through the study, smashed a glass against the fireplace, and shouted until his voice gave out.
He refused to place Sadi in the crosshairs again.
But cold logic eventually prevailed.
Lorenzo was hiding inside a fortified downtown penthouse. Storming it would cost dozens of lives and risk bringing the federal government down on both families.
They needed him outside.
They needed him arrogant.
They needed him convinced that he held every card.
The bait had to be irresistible.
A guard on Dominic’s payroll was deliberately allowed to overhear a staged screaming argument between Sadi and Dominic. They knew the man had secretly been feeding information to the Morettis.
He heard Sadi crying and demanding to leave.
He heard Dominic order her to pack her bags because she was being sent to Europe under heavy guard until the violence subsided.
By 3:01 a.m., the guard had called Lorenzo.
By 4:00 a.m., a black town car was leaving the Russo estate for a small privately owned airfield 50 mi beyond the city limits.
The rain had not stopped.
It fell in heavy, freezing sheets, turning the world beyond the windows into a smeared canvas of darkness and light.
Sadi sat in the rear seat wearing a heavy trench coat over her black clothes.
She was not shaking.
The fear had burned itself out hours earlier, leaving behind cold clarity.
Dominic sat beside her checking the magazine of a heavy assault rifle.
He wore tactical gear over dark clothing.
“When the car stops, you walk into Hangar 4. The plane is fueled. The pilot is ours. You sit in the cabin, and you do not come out no matter what you hear. My men are already embedded around the perimeter. Leo is in the control tower with a sniper rifle.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be in the shadows.”
Dominic drove the magazine into the rifle with a metallic clack.
“Waiting for the rat to take the cheese.”
He turned toward Sadi.
In the intermittent glow of passing streetlights, he appeared older.
The weight of the approaching violence sat heavily on him.
Dominic reached inside his coat and removed a compact 9 mm handgun.
He offered it to her grip-first.
Sadi stared.
She had never fired a gun.
She took it.
The metal was freezing and unexpectedly heavy.
“Safety is off. There’s a round in the chamber.”
Dominic guided her hands into position.
“If someone comes through that cabin door and it isn’t me, aim for the center of mass and pull the trigger until the gun clicks empty. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Dominic leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.
He closed his eyes.
“I will burn the world down before I let him touch you again.”
“I know.”
The town car turned from the highway onto a poorly maintained access road.
The airfield was desolate, filled with small commuter aircraft and rusted hangars.
Hangar 4 stood at the far end of the runway, its enormous corrugated-steel doors open around a sleek white Gulfstream illuminated by harsh industrial halogen lights.
The car stopped inside.
“Go.”
Sadi stepped into the freezing hangar.
Her breath plumed in front of her.
She did not look back as the car reversed and disappeared into the rain, leaving her apparently alone with the pilot.
Sadi climbed the metal stairs into the Gulfstream.
The cabin was warm and smelled of leather and aviation fuel.
She sat with the 9 mm resting in her lap.
10 minutes passed.
Then 20.
Rain hammered against the fuselage.
The silence felt heavier than gunfire.
At 25 minutes, tires screamed across the wet tarmac.
Sadi looked through an oval window.
3 black SUVs tore onto the runway and headed directly toward Hangar 4.
They skidded into position around the jet.
Doors opened.
A dozen armed men emerged.
Then Lorenzo stepped from the middle vehicle.
He was not wearing a suit.
A dark raincoat covered him, his hair plastered against his forehead.
A manic smile stretched across his face when he saw the Gulfstream.
He ordered his men to secure the entrance.
Then Lorenzo and 2 large bodyguards approached the stairs.
Sadi’s heart hammered against her scarred ribs.
She stood and raised the pistol toward the cabin door.
Her hands trembled.
Footsteps rang against the metal stairs.
“Sadi.”
Lorenzo’s mocking voice drifted upward.
“Oh, Sadi. Did the big bad boss decide you were too much trouble?”
He appeared in the doorway.
He stopped when he saw the gun aimed at his chest.
Surprise crossed his face.
Then he laughed.
“Put that away, sweetheart, before you break a nail.”
Lorenzo stepped farther inside, his men behind him.
“Dom threw you away. You’re just a waitress again. And now you’re a dead waitress.”
“I told you at the museum, Lorenzo.”
Sadi’s voice fell into a register she had never heard from herself.
“I don’t worry about my place. I worry about aim.”
Lorenzo sneered and began raising his weapon.
A high-powered rifle cracked outside.
The bodyguard behind Lorenzo’s right shoulder pitched forward.
His head snapped backward, blood and tissue striking the white leather interior of the jet.
Lorenzo froze.
The trap closed.
Gunfire erupted from the dark corners of the hangar, the rafters, and the shipping containers outside.
Dominic’s men opened fire.
Lorenzo’s men were cut down before they could properly respond.
It was not a firefight.
It was an ambush.
Inside the narrow aircraft cabin, Lorenzo panicked.
The arrogance disappeared.
He turned to flee down the stairs, shoving his remaining bodyguard ahead of him as a human shield.
Sadi did not hesitate.
She pulled the trigger.
The recoil snapped her wrists upward.
Her shot missed and shattered the glass in the cockpit door.
Lorenzo screamed, dropped to the floor, and scrambled down the stairs on his hands and knees.
Sadi followed him to the doorway.
Her ears rang.
Gunpowder burned inside her nostrils.
Lorenzo reached the hangar floor and scrambled toward his SUV, slipping in a mixture of rainwater and oil.
A heavy combat boot came down on his chest.
Dominic stood above him.
Rain and blood ran from his jaw.
An assault rifle hung from its sling.
He slowly drew his handgun.
The remaining gunfire around the hangar diminished into sporadic isolated shots as Leo and the others finished dealing with the survivors.
“Dom.”
Blood bubbled from Lorenzo’s lips.
“Dom, wait. We can negotiate the unions. I’ll give you the West Side.”
Dominic said nothing.
He did not gloat.
He did not give a speech.
He was a businessman settling a ledger.
The currency was blood.
He aimed at Lorenzo’s head.
“She’s just a—”
Lorenzo’s final insult toward Sadi never altered Dominic’s expression.
Dominic pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed through the hangar.
Lorenzo went still, staring blankly toward the corrugated-steel roof.
Dominic looked at the body for no more than a second.
Then he holstered his weapon and looked toward the aircraft.
Sadi stood at the top of the stairs, still gripping the gun.
Bodies covered the wet tarmac.
Blood mingled with rainwater.
It was horrifying.
It was barbaric.
Yet as Sadi looked at Dominic standing amid the ruin he had orchestrated to keep her alive, she felt an overwhelming, anchoring sense of peace.
Dominic walked to the bottom of the stairs.
He opened his arms.
Sadi engaged the pistol’s safety, left the weapon on a leather seat, and descended.
When she reached him, she did not hesitate.
She threw herself into his arms.
Dominic caught her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face against her neck.
He held her tightly enough to make her healing ribs ache.
But it was a good pain.
A living pain.
“It’s done.”
Dominic’s voice trembled for the first and last time.
“The ledger is closed. He’s gone.”
“I know.”
Sadi wrapped her arms around his waist beneath the tactical vest.
“You’re safe. My mother is safe.”
Dominic pulled away and looked into her face.
Rain washed blood from his cheek.
“But I’m not letting you go. The debt is paid, Sadi. You can walk away right now, and you will never want for anything for the rest of your life.”
He held her gaze.
“But if you get back in that car with me, you are mine forever. No more pretending. No more gilded cage. You are the head of this family beside me.”
Sadi looked toward the dead man on the hangar floor.
Then she looked at the blood on her own hands.
Finally, she looked into the storm-cloud eyes of the man who had bought her life with a ring and defended it with an army.
The waitress from Sal’s Diner was gone.
She had died on the linoleum floor.
Sadi reached up, threaded her fingers through Dominic’s wet hair, and pulled him down into a kiss that tasted of rain, smoke, and absolute devotion.
“Take me home, Dominic.”
They walked out of the hangar together, leaving the bodies for the cleaners.
The rain finally began to weaken, becoming a fine mist.
On the eastern horizon, beyond dense charcoal clouds, the faint bruised-purple light of dawn began to bleed across the Chicago skyline.
May you like
The war was over.
Surviving the throne would be another matter.
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