Chapter 8 - Dominic Faces An Old Enemy From Chicago
Dominic gripped the smartphone so hard the plastic casing creaked under the immense pressure of his fingers.
“If you touch a single hair on Grace’s head, I will personally feed your remains to the piranhas,” Dominic snarled.
“Such harsh words, Dominic, especially considering you’re about to lose everything you built on lies,” Vincent mocked.
“Sofia knew what you were, which is why she left that letter for Evelyn,” Dominic fired back with absolute venom.
A sharp pause echoed on the line before Vincent’s arrogant demeanor faltered for a fraction of a second.
“So you found the note in the cellar,” Vincent murmured, his voice losing its playful edge. “Too bad you were too blind to read it.”
“I see everything clearly now, Vincent,” Dominic said, stepping out of the bedroom into the grand hallway. “Starting with your grave.”
Dominic ended the call, plunging his phone back into his coat pocket as he sprinted toward the main marble staircase.
More mercenaries were pouring into the grand entrance foyer below, shattering crystal vases and smashing antique furniture.
Dominic leaned over the carved oak banister, resting the barrel of his assault rifle on the polished wood railing.
He didn't hesitate, unleashing a steady, controlled stream of suppressive fire down into the cavernous foyer below.
Shouts of shock and panic echoed upward as two more enforcers dropped their weapons and scrambled for cover behind pillars.
“Clear the house!” Dominic bellowed into the smoky air, his voice echoing off the high vaulted ceilings like thunder.
The remaining intruders realized they were walking into a meat grinder, scrambling backward toward the shattered front doors.
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Dominic didn't stop firing until the magazine clicked empty, the acrid smell of cordite filling the sprawling mansion.
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