Chapter 6 - BETRAYAL AND BLOODSHED
They fled through the subterranean tunnels beneath the meatpacking district, a forgotten network of prohibition-era smuggling routes known only to the highest echelon of the Gallow syndicate. The air was damp and smelled of rust and stagnant water.
Layla supported Dominic's weight, her own pregnant body aching with every step. Dominic was losing blood fast. The bullet had passed clean through his side, missing his vital organs, but the hemorrhage was significant. His skin was pale, covered in a sheen of cold sweat, but his sheer willpower kept him moving.
"Just a little further," Dominic grunted, leaning heavily on her shoulder. "There's an underground clinic... Doc Rossi... no relation to Camilla. He's loyal."
They emerged into a hidden basement beneath a deserted laundromat in Little Italy. Doc Rossi, an old, grizzled surgeon who had lost his medical license decades ago for treating mobsters, took one look at Dominic and immediately ushered them into a sterile operating room hidden behind a false wall.
"Put him on the table," Doc barked, snapping on latex gloves. "Miss, you need to sit down before you go into shock. Look at the size of you."
"I'm fine," Layla lied, though her legs were shaking so violently she could barely stand. The adrenaline crash was brutal. She stood by the head of the operating table, clutching Dominic's uninjured hand tightly while Doc administered a local anesthetic and began to dig out the shattered fragments of bone and bullet casing from his side.
Dominic hissed in pain, his grip on Layla's hand tightening until her knuckles turned white.
"It was Camilla," Dominic gritted out between clenched teeth, looking up at Layla. "The tactical gear. The explosives. The Morettis don't have access to that kind of military-grade hardware. Only the Rossi family does. She's coordinating this herself. She's trying to wipe me out tonight before the families can question her."
"Why didn't you just marry her?" Layla cried softly, using a piece of gauze to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "You could have just let me go. You could have kept your empire."
Dominic’s dark eyes locked onto hers, burning with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "Because an empire built with a traitor is a tomb. And because... I look at you, and I look at what you're carrying, and I realize I don't give a damn about the empire anymore if you aren't in it."
Layla’s heart skipped a beat. The confession hung in the sterile, blood-scented air, heavier than any promise he could have made.
Suddenly, Layla let out a sharp, agonizing cry, doubling over. She let go of Dominic's hand, clutching her stomach as a massive, tearing cramp ripped through her lower abdomen. Water splashed onto the linoleum floor beneath her feet.
"Layla!" Dominic shouted, trying to sit up, but Doc violently pushed him back down.
"Stay down, you idiot, you're bleeding out!" Doc roared. He looked over at Layla, his eyes widening. "Her water just broke. The stress and the physical trauma... she's going into premature labor."
"It's too early," Layla sobbed, panic consuming her entirely. "It's only six and a half months. They're too small, they won't survive!"
"I have incubators in the back," Doc said urgently, rushing to Layla's side and guiding her toward a second, smaller medical bed in the corner of the room. "I run a black-market maternity ward for the girls on the street. I have the equipment. But we need to deliver them safely, right now."
Dominic, ignoring the agonizing pain in his side, swung his legs off the table. He grabbed his blood-soaked shirt, pressing it against his wound, and picked up his satellite phone. He dialed his most trusted lieutenant, Luca.
"Luca," Dominic barked, his voice vibrating with lethal authority. "Camilla is the traitor. She ordered the hits. She's trying a hostile takeover. Rally every single man we have. I want the Rossi estate surrounded and leveled. Bring me Camilla alive. I am going to end this war tonight."
"Boss, where are you?" Luca asked, the sound of engines roaring in the background.
"I'm at the Doc's," Dominic said, looking over at Layla, who was screaming through a contraction. "Secure a perimeter around this block with fifty men. Nobody gets in or out. I have a war to finish, and I have children to deliver."
Dominic threw the phone down and limped over to Layla’s bed. He grabbed her hand, his bloody fingers interlocking with hers. He ignored his own bleeding wound, focusing entirely on the woman fighting the greatest battle of her life.
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"You listen to me, Layla," Dominic said fiercely, kissing her forehead. "You are the strongest woman I have ever met. You survived the streets. You saved my life tonight. You can do this. Our children are strong. They have your heart and my blood. They will survive."
Layla screamed again as another contraction tore through her. The underground clinic, a place of death and dark secrets, was about to become a place of life. But outside, the city of Chicago was erupting into a violent, fiery civil war that would determine whether those babies would inherit an empire or a graveyard.
