Chapter 7 - THE MAFIA QUEEN'S FALL
While Layla fought her grueling, agonizing battle in the sterile confines of the underground clinic, the streets of Chicago became a war zone.
Dominic’s orders had been absolute. The Gallow syndicate, fiercely loyal to their boss and enraged by the treacherous assassination attempt, descended upon the Rossi family's operations with brutal, coordinated efficiency. Warehouses were burned. Shipments were seized. And the palatial Rossi estate on Lake Michigan was completely surrounded by a small army of heavily armed Gallow enforcers.
Inside the estate, Camilla Rossi’s carefully constructed web of deceit was violently unraveling.
She stood in her grand foyer, clutching a gold-plated revolver, listening to the sound of her personal guards being systematically neutralized outside. The Moretti hitmen she had hired had gone completely dark. Her father, the aging Don of the Rossi family, had just called her in a blind panic, demanding to know why the Gallows had declared open war. When he realized what Camilla had done behind his back, he had disowned her on the spot to save himself.
She was entirely alone.
The heavy mahogany front doors of the estate suddenly splintered inward, blown off their hinges by a tactical breaching charge. Smoke poured into the foyer, followed immediately by Luca and a dozen Gallow enforcers, their assault rifles raised and laser sights painted directly onto Camilla’s chest.
A moment later, the sea of armed men parted.
Dominic Gallow walked through the ruined doorway.
He looked like the devil incarnate. He was wearing a fresh tactical vest over a blood-stained shirt. He was pale from blood loss, limping slightly, but his presence was absolutely terrifying. He held his matte-black pistol loosely at his side, his dark eyes fixed on the woman who had tried to murder his future.
"Dominic," Camilla spat, raising her revolver, though her hand trembled violently. "You should have died in the diner. You are ruining everything to protect a worthless maid and her bastard spawns."
Dominic didn't raise his gun. He didn't need to. He simply stared at her with a cold, hollow pity that infuriated her more than anger ever could.
"You never understood power, Camilla," Dominic said softly, his voice echoing in the grand, empty foyer. "You thought power was taking what you want by force. You thought it was plotting in the shadows. But true power is having something worth dying to protect. You have nothing. You are nothing."
"I am a Rossi!" she screamed, her finger tightening on the trigger. "I will be the queen of this city!"
"Your father just surrendered," Dominic informed her coldly. "He offered your life in exchange for a truce. The Rossi family is finished. The Morettis are dead. It's over."
Camilla let out a feral shriek of rage and aimed the revolver at Dominic's head. But before she could pull the trigger, Luca raised his rifle and fired a single, precise shot.
The bullet shattered Camilla’s shoulder, spinning her violently backward. The gold-plated revolver clattered across the marble floor. She collapsed, screaming in agony, her elegant dress soaked in blood.
Dominic walked slowly over to where she lay. He looked down at the woman who had nearly cost him his entire world. He didn't shoot her. Death was too quick, too merciful for what she had attempted.
"Bandage her," Dominic ordered Luca, turning his back on Camilla. "Hand her over to the federal authorities. I’ve already sent them the financial ledgers proving she orchestrated the Moretti hits and the illegal arms deals. She will spend the rest of her life rotting in a maximum-security cell, watching my empire grow."
As Camilla sobbed, cursing his name, Dominic pulled out his satellite phone. The war was won. The traitor was neutralized. His empire was secure.
But none of it mattered. His heart was violently pounding against his ribs for an entirely different reason.
He dialed Doc Rossi's secure line. It rang three times before the grizzled surgeon answered.
"Doc," Dominic breathed, the ruthless mob boss suddenly sounding like a terrified, mortal man. "Is she... are they..."
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"You better get back here, Boss," Doc said, his voice thick with exhaustion, but laced with a profound, quiet miracle. "Your family is waiting for you."
Dominic dropped the phone. He didn't wait for his men. He ran out to the armored SUV, ignoring the tearing pain in his side, and slammed his foot on the gas, tearing back toward Little Italy as fast as the engine could carry him.
