Chapter 3 - THE EMBASSY OF BLOOD
The revelation of the Chief’s involvement wasn't just corruption—it was a declaration of war. Someone inside the Russo syndicate was paying off the police to setup a massive federal raid designed to wipe out Dominic’s entire leadership structure.
“Pack your things,” Dominic ordered coldly, pulling a sleek silver encrypted phone from his pocket. “We leave now.”
“Where are we going?” Harper asked, rising quickly.
“Somewhere safe. The rat knows you’re digging.”
Before they could reach the private elevator, the lights inside The Iron Vault flickered and died, plunging the room into pitch blackness.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The deafening echo of suppressed automatic gunfire shattered the silence. The bulletproof glass of Harper’s office spider-webbed as high-caliber rounds slammed against it. Harper shrieked, dropping to the floor and covering her head.
In an instant, Dominic was over her. His massive body covered hers, shielding her from the flying debris. He drew a custom matte-black pistol from a shoulder holster with lightning speed.
“Stay low! Don't move!” Dominic growled into her ear.
The door was kicked open. Two men wearing night-vision goggles and tactical gear swept into the room. Dominic didn't hesitate. He raised his weapon and fired three precise shots. The muzzle flashes illuminated the room in violent bursts. Both intruders crumpled to the floor instantly.
Dominic grabbed Harper by the wrist, pulling her to her feet with effortlessly terrifying strength. “Enzo! Cover the rear stairs!” he shouted into his lapel radio.
They sprinted down a hidden service staircase, the sound of gunfire echoing through the building above them. Harper’s lungs burned, her high heels throwing off her balance, but Dominic’s grip was an anchor of pure steel.
They burst into the underground garage where a reinforced armored SUV waited. Dominic shoved Harper into the passenger side, threw himself into the driver’s seat, and slammed the vehicle into reverse just as two more armed men rounded the corner.
He floored the accelerator. The heavy SUV smashed through the glass garage barrier and roared out into the storm-slicked streets of Chicago.
Harper was hyperventilating, her hands trembling violently as she looked back at the burning silhouette of The Iron Vault. “They tried to kill us!”
“They tried to kill me,” Dominic corrected, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. “You were just collateral damage.”
“Who were they? The police?”
“No,” Dominic said, his jaw tightening until the scar turned stark white. “Those were professional mercenaries. Sicilian professionals. Which means the rat in my organization isn't just stealing my money. They’re trying to hand my head on a platter to Palermo.”
He turned the SUV down a dark, unlit alley heading toward the isolated docks of Lake Michigan.
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“Where are we going?” Harper asked, her voice trembling.
Dominic glanced at her, his eyes cold and unreadable. “To my private estate outside the city. From this moment on, Harper, you don't leave my side. Not for a single second.”
