Chapter 5 - The Escape Through the StormThe rain outside Mercy West was a torrential deluge, turning the Boston streets into black, reflective rivers.
We didn't take the elevators. Dominic led me down the echoing concrete maintenance stairwell, moving with a limp and clutching his bleeding side, yet maintaining a relentless pace that pushed me to my absolute limits.
We slipped out through the hospital loading dock, right past a smoking security van. Parked in the shadows was a sleek, matte-black armored SUV—undoubtedly belonging to Dominic’s private fleet, left untouched by the chaos inside.
Dominic hit a button on his key fob. The doors unlocked with a heavy, satisfying click.
He shoved me into the driver's seat before collapsing heavily into the passenger side, his breathing shallow and ragged.
“Drive,” he ordered, tossing me a heavy leather key ring. “Take the harbor bypass. Avoid the interstate—the state police are already compromised by the corporate board.”
I slammed my foot on the clutch, revved the powerful engine, and tore out of the hospital parking lot just as multiple police cruisers and unmarked black SUVs came screeching down the entrance road, their sirens wailing into the stormy night.
“Hold on!” I screamed, spinning the steering wheel hard. The heavy SUV drifted across the wet asphalt, narrowly missing a concrete barrier, and rocketed down toward the desolate industrial docks of Boston harbor.
In the passenger seat, Dominic pressed his hand against his blood-soaked side, wincing heavily, but his dark eyes never left my face.
“You have iron in your spine, Clara,” he murmured over the roaring engine and crashing thunder. “Most women would have frozen back in that room.”
“Most women don’t grow up sharing a bedroom with three foster brothers who fight over the last box of cereal,” I shot back, keeping my eyes locked on the treacherous road ahead. “What is happening, Dominic? Who owns those men?”
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Dominic stared out the rain-streaked window into the darkness.
“My brother,” he whispered, his voice dangerously cold. “Julian Vale. He wanted the shipping empire, and he was willing to sell the city’s port security to an international cartel to get it. He thought putting three bullets in my chest would finish the job.”
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