Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
The note never made it out of the estate. On Friday morning, Viktor intercepted Lily in the hallway before she could even reach the car for her weekly supervised trip to the park. He brought the folded slip of paper straight to Dominic’s study. Inside the paper, written in Norah’s hurried handwriting, was a single address and a desperate plea: Help me. I’m being held at 404 West End. Get me out before the baby is born. Dominic stared at the scrap of paper for twenty minutes without moving a muscle. When he finally walked into the east wing suite later that afternoon, his face was carved from absolute ice. Norah was sitting by the window reading a book, though her eyes were unfocused. When the door opened, she looked up and instantly saw the paper clenched in his fist. The blood drained from her face.
“You searched her,” Norah whispered, dropping the book onto the floor. “You searched a four-year-old child.” “Viktor checks everything that leaves this wing,” Dominic said, his voice dangerously quiet. He walked over to her, tossing the paper onto the coffee table in front of her. “You tried to smuggle a message out to your mother. To a woman with ties to local law enforcement.” “My mother is a retired high school librarian, Dominic! She doesn't have ties to law enforcement!” “Her brother is a captain in the state police, Norah. Don't insult my intelligence.” He towered over her, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. For the first time since she had known him, genuine heartbreak flickered behind the anger in his eyes. “You really thought I’d let you take my son away?” “I thought I would save my child from growing up in a house where his father is a monster!” she screamed, standing up and shoving him hard in the chest.
Dominic didn't budge an inch. He grabbed her wrists, pinning her hands gently against his chest so she couldn't hit him again. “I am a monster to everyone else, Norah! But to you and this child, I am the only thing keeping you alive!” “You’re suffocating me!” “Better suffocated and breathing than dead in a ditch!” he shouted back, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Before Norah could retort, a massive, deafening explosion rocked the entire compound. The floor shuddered violently beneath their feet. Windows across the courtyard shattered into a million glittering shards. Alarms began to wail—a shrill, piercing shriek that signaled a full-scale security breach. Dominic’s head whipped toward the door. The protective, angry boyfriend vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by the hardened syndicate warlord. He pulled a heavy Glock from his waistband, cocking it with a sharp, lethal click. “Stay in this room,” he ordered, his voice ironclad. “Don't open the door for anyone except me.” “What’s happening?” Norah cried, clutching her swollen belly as another explosion echoed in the distance, closer this time. “The Savanov syndicate,” Dominic snarled, his eyes dark with murderous intent. “They found out about the heir. They’re coming for you.”
