Chapter 3 - The Fortress on the Hill
The convoy of heavy armored SUVs sped through the rain-drenched streets of Chicago at three in the morning, bypassing red lights and side streets with practiced ease.
I sat in the middle row of the lead vehicle beside Chloe. Dominic sat in the front passenger seat, his phone buzzing continuously as he coordinated security protocols across his territory.
"My family is complicated, Sadie," Chloe murmured softly, resting her head against my shoulder as the heater warmed our cold skin. "Our father died five years ago. Dominic took over the family business to protect us, but the Vance family has been trying to claim our shipping terminals for years. Trent married me under false pretenses... to get access to our money."
"And your brother let him?" I asked quietly.
Chloe shook her head, tears filling her eyes again. "I ran away with Trent a year ago because I was stupid and thought I was in love. Dominic warned me, but I didn't listen. When I realized what Trent truly was, it was too late. I was trapped."
In the front seat, Dominic’s shoulders tense slightly at his sister's words, but he remained focused on his phone.
Twenty minutes later, the convoy pulled up to a set of massive wrought-iron gates in the affluent North Park neighborhood.
The gates swung open, revealing a sweeping estate surrounded by twelve-foot stone walls, discreet security cameras, and armed men patrolling the manicured grounds with guard dogs.
The house was a magnificent stone mansion that looked like an ancient European fortress transferred into the heart of Illinois.
When the car stopped, two private doctors in medical scrubs met us at the grand entrance.
"Take my sister to the medical suite on the third floor," Dominic ordered smoothly. "I want a complete ultrasound and a full toxicology panel immediately."
"Yes, Don Costa," the chief doctor said, guiding a weary Chloe onto a waiting wheelchair.
Chloe looked back at me, squeezing my hand before she was wheeled away. "Thank you, Sadie. Don't let my brother scare you."
Once Chloe was taken upstairs, the grand foyer fell into a heavy, watchful silence.
High wood-paneled ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and oil paintings gave the house a stately, aristocratic appearance, but the presence of tactical equipment in the corner reminded me exactly where I was.
Dominic turned around, unbuttoning his rain-soaked suit jacket and handing it to an elderly housekeeper named Maria.
"Mrs. Gable," Dominic said to the housekeeper, "prepare the master guest suite on the second floor for Sadie. Bring her clean clothes and food."
"Right away, sir," the woman nodded respectfully.
Dominic walked toward a set of heavy oak double doors leading to his private study. He paused, turning his head back toward me.
"Come inside, Sadie. We need to talk."
I followed him into the study. The room smelled of old leather, cedar wood, and expensive bourbon. A massive mahogany desk stood before high arched windows overlooking the rainy gardens.
Dominic poured two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal glass, then turned to face me.
"Marco Vance is the head of the West Side syndicate," Dominic explained, his voice calm, analytical, and heavy. "Trent was his favorite nephew. By shattering his knee, you humiliated their family publicly."
"I was protecting a pregnant woman!" I snapped, my fear finally giving way to indignation. "He was going to kill her!"
"In my world, motives do not alter consequences," Dominic said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Marco Vance will demand blood. He will come for you."
I swallowed hard, my confidence faltering. "So... what happens to me now?"
Dominic set his glass down flat against the desk. He walked around the table, stopping directly in front of me, his tall frame blocking the light from the desk lamp.
"You stay here," Dominic said, his dark eyes locking onto mine with absolute certainty. "Under my roof. Under my protection. As long as you are inside these walls, no man in this city can touch a hair on your head."
"And if I want to go home?" I asked softly.
May you like
Dominic stepped closer, his scent—a subtle blend of sandalwood, rain, and tobacco—filling my senses.
"You have no home to go back to, Sadie," he whispered gently. "Your apartment is already being watched by Vance’s men. From this moment on, your home is with me."
