Chapter 4 - The Price of LoyaltyThe cleanup was swift and silent. Within twenty minutes, Carter and a team of men had cleared the bodies from the study. The broken glass was swept away, the Persian rug rolled up and discarded. But the illusion of safety within the Ashford estate was permanently shattered.
Dominic stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out into the rain-slicked gardens, pressing a gauze pad against his bleeding side.
Isla marched up to him, a roll of fresh medical tape and a bottle of iodine in her hands. "Shirt off. Now."
Dominic complied without a word. He sat on the edge of the leather sofa, his broad back rigid. As Isla worked silently, disinfecting the torn tissue, the tension in the room grew suffocating.
"You need to send Marco and me away," Isla said quietly, her voice devoid of its usual defiance. "Tonight. Those men... they know where I work, they know where my brother sleeps. This is getting too dangerous."
Dominic stopped breathing. Slowly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. "Are you afraid?"
"I'm terrified," Isla admitted honestly, her fingers pausing on his skin. "Not for myself. For Marco. I brought him into this world of yours because I had no choice, but I won't let him get caught in the crossfire of your war with the Morettis."
Dominic reached up, his warm fingers wrapping around her wrist, stopping her hands. He turned around completely, facing her with an intensity that made the air feel thin.
"Listen to me, Isla," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. "The moment you walked into room 304 at St. Mercy, your life intertwined with mine. If I send you away now, Salvatore Moretti will hunt you down just to get to me. You are safer inside these walls with a target on your back than you are anywhere else on this earth."
"That's not protection, Dominic! That's a hostage situation with better room service!" she fired back, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.
"No," Dominic corrected, pulling her a fraction closer by her wrist. "It's a sanctuary. And I am its warden."
Before Isla could retort, the heavy oak door creaked open. Marco stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, wearing an oversized t-shirt.
"Isla?" the boy mumbled sleepily. "I heard shouting. Is everything okay?"
Isla pulled her hand gently from Dominic’s grip and rushed over to her brother, kneeling down to pull him into a tight embrace. "Everything is fine, sweetie. Just a little security breach. Go back to bed. I'll be there in a minute."
Marco nodded, casting a wary glance at the imposing mafia boss sitting on the sofa before shuffling back down the hallway.
Isla stood up, her face hardening as she looked back at Dominic. "You see that? That is an innocent child. If anything happens to him..."
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"Nothing will happen to him," Dominic interrupted, his tone laced with absolute, terrifying finality. "Because I will burn Chicago to the ground before I let anyone touch a hair on his head. Or yours."
That night, Isla didn't return to her own room. She sat in the armchair beside Dominic’s bed, watching over him as he stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain batter the glass. Neither of them spoke, but the unspoken pact between them grew ironclad.
