Chapter 6 - Midnight InfernoThe rain was coming down in sheets when Dominic’s convoy of four black SUVs slid to a silent, aggressive halt outside Bea’s All-Night Diner. The neon sign flickered out entirely, leaving the street illuminated only by the harsh amber glow of a streetlamp.
Inside, the diner was a disaster zone.
Chairs were overturned. Ceramic plates lay shattered across the linoleum. In the center of the room, three of Marcone’s armed enforcers were leaning casually against the counter, laughing as an elderly woman—Bea—clutched her bandaged arm, sobbing quietly in a booth.
And standing right in front of them, blocking their path to the cash register, was Emma.
Her uniform was torn at the shoulder. A dark bruise was blooming across her left cheekbone where someone had struck her. Yet, her chin was lifted, her eyes burning with an unyielding, fierce defiance that made the thugs hesitate.
"I told you," Emma spat, blood staining the corner of her lip, "I don't have five thousand dollars. And even if I did, I wouldn't give a dime to trash like you."
The largest enforcer—a hulking brute named Sal with a jagged scar across his throat—stepped forward, raising the back of his hand to strike her again.
"You stubborn bitch, you're gonna learn the hard way—"
CLANG!
The heavy glass front door didn't just open; it exploded inward, shattered into a million glittering fragments as heavy combat boots crushed the frame.
Sal froze, his hand suspended in mid-air.
Dominic Vale stepped through the wreckage.
He didn't look like a businessman. He looked like an angel of death. The rain cascaded off the shoulders of his black trench coat, pooling at his feet. Behind him, four armed security directors fanned out instantly, their automatic weapons locked dead onto Marcone’s men with terrifying precision.
The air in the diner sucked out completely.
Sal dropped his hand, color draining instantly from his face. "D-Dominic Vale? What the hell are you—"
Dominic didn't speak. He walked forward with slow, deliberate, unhurried steps. His face was a mask of absolute, terrifying serenity.
"You're standing on my property," Dominic said softly.
Sal laughed nervously, trying to bluff. "Your property? Man, this is Marcone’s turf! We’re just collecting a debt—"
Before Sal could finish his sentence, Dominic moved with lightning-fast, violent speed.
In a single, fluid motion, Dominic closed the distance, grabbed Sal by the throat, and slammed his head directly into the stainless-steel counter with a sickening CRACK. Sal went limp instantly, collapsing to the floor like a sack of wet cement.
The other two enforcers reached for their sidearms, but Mason and the security team already had laser sights glowing red against their chests.
"Drop them," Mason snarled.
The weapons hit the floor with a metallic clatter.
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Dominic turned slowly, stepping over the unconscious thug, and walked straight toward Emma.
She stood frozen, staring at him in utter disbelief. The man she had accused hours earlier of being a monster had just walked into a war zone and torn through her attackers without blinking an eye.
