Chapter 3 - THE TRAITOR AT THE DOOR
“Put the gun down, Marcus,” Dominic said.
His voice didn't rise. He didn't show an ounce of fear. He just sounded profoundly disappointed.
Marcus was a massive man who had worked for Dominic for ten years. He stood between us and the driveway, his hands shaking slightly around the grip of his pistol.
“I can’t do that, Boss,” Marcus said heavily. “Madeline promised me a cut of the Cayman account. I have debts, Dominic. I have a family to feed.”
“You’re pointing a weapon at me for a woman who just got caught stealing eighty-five thousand dollars?” Dominic asked.
“It’s not eighty-five thousand,” Marcus confessed. “It’s over four million. She’s been draining your accounts for a year. And the Romanos want their final payment tonight.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
My mother was trapped in a church with Romano thugs, and Dominic’s own head of security was betraying him.
“Marcus, please,” I pleaded. “My mother is at St. Andrew’s. They’re hurting her!”
Marcus didn't look at me. “I’m sorry, kid. But nobody leaves this house until Madeline makes the transfer.”
Dominic slowly raised his hands in surrender.
“Okay, Marcus. You win. Let me just get my phone.”
Dominic reached slowly into his jacket pocket.
But he didn't pull out a phone.
With lightning speed, Dominic pulled a heavy brass money clip from his pocket and threw it directly into Marcus’s face.
The heavy metal struck Marcus perfectly on the bridge of his nose.
Marcus grunted, stumbling backward.
Dominic lunged. He twisted Marcus’s wrist, forcing the gun to point toward the ceiling just as it fired. The gunshot shattered a crystal chandelier above us.
Dominic delivered a brutal strike to Marcus’s jaw. The large man collapsed to the marble floor, unconscious.
Dominic picked up the gun and checked the magazine.
“Are you okay, Olivia?”
I was shaking, but I nodded. “We have to get to the church.”
We ran to his black SUV parked in the driveway. Dominic drove like a madman through the Chicago streets.
When we pulled up to St. Andrew’s Church, the front doors were smashed open. Canned goods and boxes of pasta were scattered across the front steps.
I ran inside, ignoring Dominic’s orders to stay behind him.
“Mom!” I screamed into the dark sanctuary.
“Olivia! I’m in here!”
I rushed to the back office. The door was barricaded from the outside with a heavy wooden pew. Dominic shoved the pew aside and kicked the door open.
My mother was sitting on the floor, weeping, but she was unhurt. I fell to my knees and threw my arms around her.
“Thank God,” I sobbed.
“They took everything,” my mother cried. “The donations, the food. But Olivia... they were looking for something specific.”
Dominic stepped into the office, his gun lowered. “What were they looking for, Mrs. Bennett?”
“The church’s property deed,” she whispered. “They said Madeline promised it to them.”
Dominic’s face darkened. The Romanos didn't just want cash. They wanted the church’s prime real estate.
Suddenly, a small, trembling voice came from the supply closet.
“They didn't get it.”
I turned.
A little boy, no older than seven, stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing a ragged coat and holding a small, locked metal lockbox against his chest.
It was Leo. An orphan from the neighborhood who hung around the pantry. My mother often fed him.
“Leo?” my mother gasped. “You were hiding in here?”
Leo nodded. He walked over and handed the heavy lockbox to Dominic.
“I hid it when the bad men came,” Leo said bravely. “But the man with the scar dropped this.”
Leo reached into his little coat pocket.
He held out a thick, braided leather bracelet.
Dominic took the bracelet. He stared at it, the color completely draining from his face.
“I know who this belongs to,” Dominic whispered.
“Who?” I asked.
May you like
Dominic looked at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying realization.
“My brother.”
