Chapter 8 - The Price of a SoulThe silence in the grand hallway was deafening, broken only by the distant crackle of flames and the steady hum of the emergency strobe lights casting eerie red shadows across the walls.
Dominic slowly lowered his pistol, his eyes locked onto Leo with a look so devoid of human emotion that even the madman hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"Let the girl and the woman go, Leo," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "This is between you and me."
"Oh, it's bigger than you and me, Dom," Leo laughed, stepping closer, his gold-plated revolver steady. "You think you own Philadelphia? You think because you sit in your high-rise and toss scraps to the wolves that you’re the king? I’m going to level your entire empire, starting with your precious daughter."
Leo’s finger tightened slightly on the trigger of his revolver, shifting his aim from Nora to little Lia, who was sobbing softly against Dominic’s coat.
Nora’s heart stopped. All the fear, all the hesitation evaporated, replaced by a sudden, surging wave of white-hot fury.
He’s going to kill a child.
Leo never saw her move. Training his eyes entirely on Dominic, he underestimated the waitress standing in the shadows behind the marble pillar.
With a sharp intake of breath, Nora stepped out from behind the pillar, raised the Glock Dominic had given her with both hands, and squeezed the trigger.
Bang.
The bullet caught Leo squarely in the right shoulder. The gold-plated revolver flew from his hand, clattering loudly against the marble floor as he screamed in agony, clutching his bloody arm and stumbling backward against a priceless oil painting.
Before Leo could recover, Dominic dropped his weapon, crossed the distance in three massive strides, and slammed his fist into Leo’s jaw with the force of a wrecking ball. Leo dropped like a stone, unconscious before he even hit the floor.
Dominic stood over him, breathing heavily, his knuckles bruised and bleeding. Then, slowly, he turned his head and looked at Nora.
She was still holding the smoking gun, her hands trembling violently, staring down at the man she had just shot. The oversized cashmere coat slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing the raw scrapes on her wrists from the night before.
Dominic walked over to her, gently reached out, and pried the heavy pistol from her numb fingers, sliding it back into his holster.
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"You shot him," Dominic whispered, a faint, disbelieving trace of a smile touching the corner of his lips.
"I told you," Nora breathed, her voice shaking as tears finally spilled over her eyelashes. "I'm from South Philly."
