Chapter 6 - Blood on the Linoleum
“Don’t move an inch,” Dominic said softly.
It wasn't a warning; it was a death sentence.
Before the man in the leather jacket could pull his weapon from his coat, Viktor and two other guards were already on him. They tackled him across the hospital room, sending a bedside tray of water pitchers and plastic cups crashing to the linoleum floor.
“Mom!” I cried, rushing to the side of the bed and throwing my arms around her frail shoulders. “Are you okay? Did he touch you?”
“Elena? What’s going on?” my mother asked, her eyes wide with alarm as she looked past me at the men wrestling an intruder onto the floor. “Who are these people? Why are there men with guns in my room?”
“Everything is fine, Mrs. Vance,” Dominic said, stepping into the room and adjusting his cuffs. His voice was suddenly warm, gentle, and utterly reassuring—a brilliant, terrifying mask he wore effortlessly. “I’m a friend of Elena’s. We’re just... sorting out a security misunderstanding.”
My mother blinked, her expression softening. “Oh. Well, your friend is very well-dressed, dear. Though his friends play a bit rough.”
On the floor, Viktor had his knee planted firmly between the intruder’s shoulder blades, twisting his arm behind his back until a sickening pop echoed through the room.
“Talk,” Dominic commanded, walking over and kneeling beside the man. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. “Who sent you? Marcone?”
The man spat a glob of blood onto the white tiles, laughing wetly. “Fuck you, Moretti. You think you rule this city? Sal Marcone is coming for everything. Your business, your money... and that little brat of yours.”
Dominic’s expression didn't change. He slowly reached out, took the red rose from the man’s bloody fingers, and crushed the petals in his palm.
“Tell Sal that if he ever looks at a hospital, a child, or a mother in this city again, I won't just burn his warehouses to the ground,” Dominic whispered, his voice like grinding ice. “I’ll feed him his own teeth.”
He stood up, brushing off his trousers. “Viktor. Take him to the basement of the meatpacking plant. Let’s see how talkative he is after a night in the cold storage.”
“Boss,” Viktor grunted, hauling the man to his feet by his collar.
As they hauled the screaming intruder out of the room, I stood by my mother’s bed, my chest heaving. The danger was real. The war between the Moretti syndicate and Marcone’s Outfit had just landed on my doorstep, and there was no going back.
“Elena,” Dominic said, turning to me with those dark, bottomless eyes. “Your mother needs 24-hour protection. I’m moving her to a private wing at my estate. Pack her bags.”
“You can’t just kidnap my mother!” I whispered fiercely.
“I’m not kidnapping her. I’m saving her life,” Dominic replied, holding my gaze. “Choose, Elena. Does she stay here and wait for Marcone’s next message, or does she come under my roof where no bullet can touch her?”
I looked at my mother, who was looking between us with complete bewilderment. Then I looked at Dominic.
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I had lost my son because I couldn't save him. I would not lose my mother because I was too proud to accept protection from a monster.
“Fine,” I swallowed hard. “She comes with us.”
