Dominic Carver did not look at the captain, nor did he look at his relieved younger brother. His eyes remained fixed on the little girl whose small fingers were still stained with blue w

At 4:00 AM, deep in the underground reinforced concrete bunkers beneath the estate, the heavy iron door of Interrogation Room 3 swung open.

Julian Vance was tied securely to a heavy steel chair sitting beneath a single buzzing fluorescent light bulb. His clothes were rumpled, his hair messy, and his high-polish Italian leather dress shoes were scuffed and covered in dirt.

Grant Keller stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, two large security guards standing beside him.

When Dominic walked into the room, Julian flinched violently, straining against the heavy ropes binding his wrists.

"Dominic! Please! What is the meaning of this?!" Julian shrieked, his voice laced with frantic panic. "Grant's men grabbed me out of my apartment! I haven't done anything wrong! I'm Owen's personal assistant!"

Dominic pulled up a metal chair, turned it around, and sat down directly in front of Julian. He rested his elbows on the back of the chair, staring at the sniveling man with terrifying calm.

"Nice shoes, Julian," Dominic observed softly, glancing down at the polished leather footwear.

Julian swallowed hard, his throat dry. "What?"

"Shiny shoes," Dominic repeated. "Perfect for an office. Not so great for crawling under a wet marina slip to attach a thirty-pound magnetic limpet mine to my yacht."

Julian’s face went completely ghost-white. "I... I don't know what you're talking about! A mine?! Dominic, I swear to God, I was in my office all afternoon!"

"Your card-key swiped into the lower marina at 4:32 PM," Grant interjected calmly, tossing a printed computer log onto Julian's lap. "And the thermal cameras caught a man matching your exact height, weight, and footwear leaving the pier four minutes later."

Julian’s breathing turned fast and shallow. Tears of terror began streaming down his cheeks. "No... no, you don't understand! I didn't want to do it! I was forced!"

Dominic leaned forward, his face inches from Julian's. "Who forced you?"

"I can't say! They'll kill me!" Julian wept, shaking uncontrollably. "If I talk, they'll butcher my entire family!"

Dominic reached out, taking Julian by his collar, dragging him forward until their noses almost touched.

"Julian," Dominic whispered, his voice dark and heavy as a coffin lid. "You are sitting in my basement. The people outside this house might hurt your family eventually. But if you do not give me a name right now... I will make sure you beg for death before the sun rises."

Julian broke completely. The raw, terrifying presence of Dominic Carver crushed whatever loyalty he had left.

"It was the Moretti syndicate!" Julian sobbed hysterically. "Don Antonio Moretti! He offered me two million dollars and a seat at his board table if I eliminated you before the seasonal territory negotiations next week!"

Dominic’s eyes narrowed into slits. Don Antonio Moretti was the leader of the rival syndicate controlling the southern docks—a ruthless old crime lord who had been trying to expand his territory into Boston for over a decade.

"How did Moretti know my yacht was departing at five o'clock today?" Dominic asked quietly. "The trip was private. Only four people knew the exact departure time."

Julian hesitated, his eyes darting frantically toward the door.

Dominic’s hand tightened on his collar, cutting off his airway. "Who gave Moretti the schedule, Julian?"

Julian choked, gasping for air, his eyes bulging with terror. "It... it was... it was Owen!"

The room plunged into absolute, suffocating silence.

Grant gasped, stepping forward in sheer disbelief. "What did you say?!"

"It was Owen!" Julian screamed, sobbing uncontrollably. "Owen owes twenty million dollars in illegal gambling debts to Moretti's casinos! Moretti promised to wipe Owen's debt clean and make him the new head of the Carver family if Owen helped them eliminate Dominic!"

Dominic slowly released Julian's collar, standing up to his full height.

His face was completely devoid of emotion. His broad shoulders were squared, but inside, a brutal, devastating betrayal was tearing through his chest.

His own flesh and blood. His younger brother, whom Dominic had protected, raised, and funded for his entire life, had orchestrated his murder for money and power.

"Boss..." Grant whispered nervously, looking at Dominic. "Are you alright?"

Dominic stood motionless for ten long seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was colder than the ocean water beneath the marina.

"Grant," Dominic said, walking toward the iron door.

"Yes, boss?"

"Keep Julian locked in this room. And call my brother down to the study."

"What are you going to do?"