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She Rescued A Wounded Man In A Dark Alley — Then Learned He Was The City's Most Ruthless Mafia Boss / Chapter 6 / 7

Chapter 7 - The Final StandThrough the wall monitor, Clara watched the battle unfold like a silent, horrifying movie.

Dominic moved through the shadows of the executive lounge with the predatory grace of a wolf. He didn't rush. Every step was calculated, every corner cleared with ruthless efficiency. When the first O'Connor operative rounded the mahogany bar, Dominic's gun barked twice—sharp, echoing cracks that sounded like thunder in the empty suite. The operative dropped instantly.

By the time Sean and his remaining two men reached the central atrium, Dominic was waiting for them behind the glass staircase.

What followed was a brutal, fast-paced firefight. Glass shattered into a million sparkling diamonds as bullets tore through the high-end interior. Dominic took a grazing shot to his left shoulder, blood blooming across his navy shirt, but he didn't falter. He closed the distance with terrifying speed, disarming one operative with a vicious kick to the jaw and slamming another into the glass railing until it gave way, sending the man plunging fifty floors down.

Only Sean remained.

The two former brothers-in-arms stood facing each other across the ruined atrium, heavy breathing echoing in the silence between gunshots.

"It's over, Dominic!" Sean screamed, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, his pistol leveled at Dominic's chest. "The syndicate is mine! The city is mine!"

"You always were ambitious, Sean," Dominic replied, his voice eerily calm as he stepped forward, the barrel of his Glock pointed straight at Sean's heart. "Too bad you mistook ambition for survival."

"See you in hell, boss," Sean snarled, pulling the trigger.

Click.

Sean's gun was empty.

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The file sat on my mahogany desk in the corner office of Keane Meridian Capital, its heavy cardboard cover looking innocent enough. Inside lay the financial autopsy of Mercer Dominion Group.

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The cold dawn of Manhattan’s winter bit sharply through the floorboards of the servants’ quarters, but Elena Carter barely felt it. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

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Before Sean could react, Dominic's gun flashed once. A single bullet struck Sean squarely in the shoulder, spinning him around and sending him crashing hard onto the marble floor. Dominic walked up slowly, standing over his traitorous lieutenant, his shadow falling over him like the hand of death.

He didn't fire a second shot. Instead, he kicked Sean's weapon away, keyed his wrist communicator, and spoke two words: "Clean up."

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