Chapter 8 - THE SANCTUARY
The church was entirely dark when we pulled up to the curb.
It was 4:45 AM. The neighborhood was silent, save for the distant rumble of the elevated train.
“You stay in the car,” Dominic ordered, chambering a round into his pistol.
“I’m not staying here, Dominic. That’s my mother’s church. And Madeline dragged my life into this. I’m finishing it with you.”
He looked at me, seeing the absolute finality in my expression. He nodded once.
We walked up the broken stone steps and pushed through the shattered wooden doors into the sanctuary.
The only light came from the moon shining through the stained-glass windows, casting long, colorful shadows across the wooden pews.
Standing at the altar, illuminated by a single flickering candle, was Vincent.
Beside him stood Madeline, looking terrified, clutching a small, ten-year-old boy by the collar of his jacket.
The boy looked exactly like Dominic. The same dark hair, the same gray eyes. He was crying silently.
Dominic’s breath hitched the moment he saw his son.
“Let the boy go, Vincent,” Dominic’s voice echoed through the empty church. “You have the ledger. You have the money. Leave.”
Vincent smiled, stepping down from the altar.
“The money isn't enough anymore, Dominic. You humiliated me. You sent the FBI after my allies. I don't just want your empire. I want you to feel what it’s like to lose everything.”
Vincent raised his gun, aiming it directly at the little boy.
“No!” Madeline screamed, finally realizing the monster she had allied herself with. She stepped in front of the child, shielding him with her body.
“Vincent, you promised!” Madeline cried. “You said if I brought him here, we could leave!”
“I lied, Madeline,” Vincent sneered. “You were just bait.”
He shoved Madeline violently to the ground.
The little boy screamed, backing away toward the altar steps.
Dominic raised his weapon, his eyes locked on his brother.
“If you pull that trigger, Vincent, you die before the bullet hits him.”
“Then we die together,” Vincent smiled.
But as Vincent’s finger tightened on the trigger, a voice called out from the back of the church.
“Drop the weapon, Vincent.”
Marcus stepped out of the shadows, flanked by ten heavily armed men. They fanned out across the sanctuary, their weapons trained on Vincent.
Vincent froze. He looked around, realizing he was completely surrounded.
“It’s over, brother,” Dominic said, stepping forward.
Vincent let out a bitter, defeated laugh.
He slowly lowered his gun.
But he didn't drop it.
With a sudden, violent movement, Vincent spun around and aimed the gun at Madeline, who was still weeping on the floor.
“If I don't get a family, neither do you,” Vincent snarled.
He fired.
The gunshot deafened the sanctuary.
But Madeline didn't fall.
Dominic had moved faster than humanly possible. He dove across the altar steps, pushing Madeline out of the way.
The bullet struck Dominic in the shoulder.
He collapsed onto the wooden floor with a heavy groan.
“Dominic!” I screamed, sprinting down the aisle without a second thought.
Marcus and his men opened fire. Vincent didn't stand a chance. He fell backward, his weapon clattering to the floor, lifeless before he hit the ground.
I slid to my knees beside Dominic, pressing my hands against his bleeding shoulder.
“Dominic, look at me,” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “Stay with me!”
He looked up at me, his gray eyes struggling to focus. He reached up with a blood-stained hand and touched my cheek.
“Is he safe?” Dominic gasped.
I looked up. The little boy was standing near the altar, completely unharmed.
“He’s safe,” I sobbed. “He’s safe.”
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Dominic smiled a weak, beautiful smile.
Then his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.
