Chapter 8 - Enemy of My Enemy
Dominic kicked open the heavy reinforced door at the back of the surveillance room, leading directly into the luxury cell shown on screen seven.
The room was filled with soft white furniture, fresh flowers, and expensive paintings—a gilded cage.
Lydia Vale sat in the armchair, her blue eyes glassed over from the IV drugs. When Dominic rushed to her side and unclipped the handcuffs, she looked up at him, her lips moving weakly.
“Dominic...?” she slurred, her hands reaching out blindly. “They... they told me you were dead... they said you killed our baby...”
Dominic’s eyes filled with raw, painful emotion. He wrapped a blanket around his wife’s frail shoulders and lifted her into his arms. “I’m here, Lydia. Noah is alive.”
Lydia turned her head slowly, seeing me holding Noah in my arms. When Noah saw his mother, a soft sob broke from his lips. “Mommy?”
“Noah... my baby...” Lydia wept softly, reaching out to touch his face with trembling fingers.
BOOM!
Another explosion rattled the basement walls. Smoke began pouring in through the air vents.
“The main stairs are cut off!” Dominic yelled over the roar of flames above. “We have to take the emergency drainage tunnel to the lake shore!”
We sprinted through the damp, narrow concrete tunnel underlying the estate. Dominic carried his weakened wife, while I carried Noah, my lungs burning and my ribs aching with every step.
Behind us, we could hear heavy footsteps and Italian curses echo down the tunnel. Moretti’s hitmen were pursuing us.
“Dominic Vale!” a harsh, gravelly voice echoed down the tunnel. It was Marcus Moretti. “You can’t run, Dominic! Give me the boy and the ledger, and I’ll let you die quick!”
Dominic stopped at the end of the tunnel, where an iron gate opened up to the rocky shore of Lake Michigan. Outside, a high-speed matte-black cigarette boat was idling in the dark water, waiting for us.
Dominic placed Lydia inside the boat, then turned to face the dark tunnel behind us. He pulled two extra magazines from his tactical vest.
“Get in the boat, Clara,” Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
“What about you?!” I cried out.
“I’m ending this,” Dominic said, looking down at Noah, then up at me. He reached out and gently pressed his hand against the back of my neck, pulling my face close to his. “Take care of my son. If I don’t make it... the black card is yours. Everything I own goes to Noah and you.”
May you like
Before I could protest, Dominic shoved the boat off the rocky ledge and hit the remote release on the iron gate.
The heavy iron door slammed down between us, locking Dominic inside the dark tunnel with Marcus Moretti and ten armed hitmen.
