Chapter 3 - THE EAST WING
Dominic stared at Evelyn, the world tilting beneath his feet. The betrayal of his fiancée and his underboss was a matter of business, a bitter pill he could swallow and avenge. But Leo? His late brother’s son? The boy was the only innocent thing left in Dominic's dark world.
"If they touch one hair on his head," Dominic swore, his voice trembling with a violence that made the air feel heavy, "I will peel the flesh from Isabella's bones."
"Save your anger. We have four minutes before the fire starts," Evelyn said, already sprinting down the dark servant’s corridor.
Dominic ran after her, his mind racing. He had known Silas had a daughter, but he had believed she died in the same car bomb that took the legendary enforcer's life ten years ago. Yet here she was, moving through the shadows of his own estate with the phantom grace of her father.
"How do you know the layout of the servant passages?" Dominic asked as they took a sharp left, avoiding the main security cameras.
"My father helped build the security protocols for this house," Evelyn replied, not looking back. "He left me his journals. He knew your inner circle would rot from the inside out. It was just a matter of time."
They reached the heavy oak door leading to the east wing. Evelyn held up a hand, signaling for silence. She pressed her ear to the wood. Muffled footsteps echoed on the other side.
Evelyn drew a suppressed pistol from the small of her back—a weapon she certainly hadn't been carrying in her waitress apron. She nodded to Dominic. On the count of three, Dominic kicked the door open.
Two of Isabella’s men were pouring gasoline on the thick Persian rugs in the hallway. They spun around, but Evelyn was faster. Thwip. Thwip. Two muffled shots. The men dropped before they could even draw their weapons.
Dominic rushed past them, kicking a dropped gasoline can aside, and sprinted to the end of the hall. He threw open the door to the nursery.
The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the window. The bed was empty. The sheets were thrown back.
Panic seized Dominic’s throat. "Leo!" he yelled, throwing open the closet doors. Empty.
Evelyn stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the shadows. She walked slowly toward a large wooden toy chest in the corner of the room. She knelt beside it and tapped a very specific rhythm on the lid: Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.
The lid slowly creaked open. A pair of terrified, wide brown eyes peered out. Little Leo, clutching a frayed, stuffed blue rabbit, looked up at them, trembling uncontrollably.
"Uncle Dom?" the boy whispered, tears streaking his cheeks.
Dominic fell to his knees, pulling the boy out of the chest and crushing him in a desperate hug. "I've got you, buddy. I'm right here."
Evelyn watched them, a profound sadness softening her hardened features. "I taught him that knock three weeks ago," she said softly. "I told him if he ever heard scary noises, to hide and wait for that sound."
Dominic looked up at her, realizing this woman had been protecting his family right under his nose while he was busy planning a wedding with a murderer.
"We need to go to the underground bunker," Dominic said, lifting Leo into his arms. "There's a reinforced safe room beneath the library."
Evelyn nodded, securing the perimeter. They moved swiftly through the sprawling estate, the smell of smoke faintly beginning to drift through the air from the dining room. They reached the library, pulling a lever hidden behind a row of encyclopedias. The heavy bookcase swung open, revealing a steel door.
Dominic punched in the six-digit code. The door hissed open.
He stepped inside, ready to set Leo down in safety. But he froze.
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The safe room wasn't empty. Sitting calmly in one of the leather chairs, holding a suppressed pistol aimed directly at Dominic’s chest, was Father Thomas—the syndicate's spiritual advisor, Dominic’s godfather, and the man who had baptized Leo.
"Close the door, Dominic," the elderly priest said, his voice laced with heavy sorrow. "And put the boy down."
