Chapter 8
The ensuing gunfight lasted less than three minutes, but it sounded like a war zone.
From my vantage point by the second-floor window, I watched Dominic move through his own foyer like a phantom, his SIG Sauer flashing in the dim, smoke-filled light. He didn't yell. He didn't hesitate. Every shot was calculated, precise, and lethal.
Within minutes, the three enforcers who had breached the ground floor were disarmed and neutralized on the marble tile where Santoro had stood a week ago.
The lead lieutenant tried to scramble back toward the shattered front doors, but Dominic grabbed him by the collar of his tactical vest, slamming him against the stone pillar with enough force to crack plaster.
"Where is Santoro?" Dominic hissed, his voice cutting through the crackle of flames below.
"He... he stayed in Brooklyn!" the man choked out, blood dripping from his lip. "It was a trap to get you out of the city—"
Dominic didn't let him finish. With a cold, ruthless swing of his gun butt, the man slumped unconscious to the floor.
"Secure the perimeter!" Dominic shouted into his comms unit as reinforcements from his loyal Brooklyn and Manhattan factions finally swarmed the property, extinguishing the fires and clearing the rooms.
Dominic didn't wait for his men. He dropped his weapon into its holster and sprinted up the grand staircase, taking three steps at a time, shouting my name.
"Clara! Clara!"
I threw open the master study door just as he reached the top landing.
When Dominic saw me standing there unharmed, covered in soot but alive, the terrifying mask of the mafia boss completely shattered. He crossed the hallway in two giant strides, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me violently against his chest, burying his face in my neck.
"Are you hurt?" he breathed, his voice cracking violently. "Did they touch you?"
"I'm fine," I whispered, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist, feeling the wild, frantic rhythm of his heart. "Rosa and the girls are safe in the panic room. Everyone is safe."
Dominic pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands framing my face, his slate-grey eyes shining with unshed tears.
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"When I saw the smoke from the highway," Dominic whispered, his voice shaking, "I thought... I thought I had lost everything twice."
"You didn't lose anything," I said, leaning up to press my lips softly against his forehead. "We're right here."
