Chapter 3 - The Fortress of Broken Whispers
The journey from the private hospital to the Rossi estate was a silent procession of armored black SUVs.
Rain lashed against the reinforced ballistic glass as thunder echoed across the Long Island Sound.
Every bump in the road sent lightning through the seven healing wounds stitched across my torso.
Dominic sat directly beside me, his arm braced behind my shoulders to absorb the worst of the vehicle's vibration.
He did not say a word, but his body never relaxed for a fraction of a second during the sixty-minute transit.
We arrived at a massive stone manor perched atop sea cliffs, surrounded by high iron gates and security cameras.
Dozens of armed men in dark raincoats dipped their heads in deference as Dominic personally lifted me from the seat.
I protested that I could walk, but the agony in my abdomen proved me a liar before I took two steps.
He carried me through the vaulted marble foyer with an ease that made me feel dangerously fragile.
Isabella directed the staff to place me in the master suite on the second floor, complete with an adjoining medical station.
A private nurse dressed in civilian clothes immediately hooked my IV lines back to fresh bags of saline and antibiotics.
Dominic stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the stormy ocean, staring into the dark horizon.
You will stay in this room until the surgical staples are removed and your vitals stabilize, he commanded.
I am a prisoner here, aren't I, I asked, watching his broad silhouette against the flashing lightning.
You are the most heavily guarded woman on the eastern seaboard, Clara, which is entirely different from being a captive.
He turned, his eyes piercing through the shadows of the lavish bedroom.
Your mother has been transferred to a secure cardiac pavilion under Rossi protection in Ohio.
She believes you received a corporate promotion in marketing that requires extended travel and high compensation.
Why would you lie to her like that, I demanded, my voice cracking beneath the weight of my exhaustion.
Because if she knew you took seven bullets meant for my mother, her heart would stop before morning.
His logic was ruthless, unassailable, and entirely designed to keep me compliant within his grasp.
After the nurse administered a sedative, Dominic stepped toward the heavy mahogany door to take his leave.
Before he could turn the brass handle, Enzo stepped inside with a weathered leather portfolio under his arm.
We found the driver who transported Costa’s shooter from the hotel gala, Enzo announced quietly.
Dominic’s expression became utterly devoid of humanity, transforming into the monster the underworld feared.
Did he speak, Dominic asked, his voice flat and terrifyingly calm.
He gave us a location in Queens before he choked on his own teeth, Enzo answered without blinking.
Dominic glanced back at me, his gaze lingering on the bandages wrapped tightly around my ribs.
Stay in bed, little waitress, he whispered before vanishing into the corridor with his executioner in tow.
May you like
I lay alone in that cavernous room, listening to the relentless rain hammering against the impenetrable glass.
My fingers traced the heavy gold ring on my hand, wondering what dark debt had truly bound me to this empire.
