Chapter 4 - Debt of Honor
The next morning broke grey and damp over the Lake Forest estate. Sadie woke up in the massive bed, her body aching from the bruises of the previous night. Her hands were neatly bandaged, the soothing ointment having taken the sharpest edge off the burn pain, though her left palm remained stiff and raw.
She dressed in a oversized cashmere sweater and tailored sweatpants that Mrs. Gable had thoughtfully left on an armchair—luxurious clothes that smelled brand new and felt ridiculously soft against her skin.
Stepping out of her room, she found the estate remarkably quiet. Armed men still guarded the corridors, but their movements were silent, shadows against the opulent woodwork.
As she navigated the grand hallway, a quiet voice called out from an open doorway near the sunroom.
"In here, my dear."
Sadie paused, recognizing the soft, slightly rasping voice. She pushed open the door and stepped into a bright, glass-walled room filled with exotic plants and plush seating.
Sitting in a wheelchair near the window, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, was Rosa Castile.
The elderly woman’s face bore minor abrasions from the smoke and flying debris, and her white hair was neatly pinned back. On her lap sat a cup of steaming tea. When she saw Sadie, her dark eyes—the exact same shade as Dominic’s—lit up with profound warmth.
"Miss Brooks," Rosa said, reaching out a fragile hand. "Please. Come in."
Sadie hesitated, then walked over, taking the older woman's hand gently, careful not to press her own bandaged palm too hard. "Mrs. Castile. You shouldn't be sitting up... you need rest."
"I have rested enough," Rosa said softly, her thumb gently stroking the back of Sadie’s uninjured wrist. "The doctor said I would have died of smoke inhalation in another three minutes. You came into that inferno when everyone else was running away."
"I heard you coughing," Sadie said simply, taking a seat on the cushioned bench beside her. "I couldn't just leave you."
Rosa smiled, a sad, knowing expression that softened the harsh lines of her age. "That is what separates good souls from the rest of the world. Dominic told me what happened at your apartment last night. I am deeply sorry that my family’s cursed life has brought destruction to yours."
"It's not your fault," Sadie said quietly. "It's the people who set the fire."
"In our world, the blame spreads like the fire itself," Rosa replied, looking out over the misty gardens. "My son... he appears cold to the world. He has had to be ruthless to keep our family alive since his father died ten years ago. But he possesses a fierce sense of honor. He will burn Chicago to the ground before he lets anyone harm you now."
Sadie felt a shiver run down her spine. "That's what scares me, Mrs. Castile. I don't want a war fought over me. I just want my life back."
"Your old life is gone, child," Rosa said gently, but with absolute truth. "Once the dark forces of this city know your name, you cannot simply go back to carrying trays at a diner. But Dominic will build you a new life—a safe one."
Before Sadie could respond, the sunroom door opened. Dominic stepped inside, holding a file folder. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing dark tattoos of old Italian script wrapping around his muscular skin.
He stopped when he saw Sadie sitting beside his mother. The coldness in his dark eyes melted slightly, replaced by a subtle, intense focus as his gaze lingered on Sadie.
"Mother," Dominic said, walking over and bending down to kiss Rosa’s cheek. "How are you feeling?"
"Better now that I have met my guardian angel," Rosa said, giving her son a stern look. "Have you been treating her well, Dominic? Or have you been treating her like one of your lieutenants?"
Dominic allowed a small, rare smile to touch his lips. "She refuses to be treated like either, Mother."
Rosa chuckled softly, then patted Sadie’s arm. "Dominic, take her to the terrace. Let her get some fresh air. This old room smells of medicine."
Dominic nodded, gesturing toward the double glass doors leading to a covered stone patio overlooking the estate’s vast grounds. Sadie stood up, following him outside into the cool morning air.
The rain had stopped, leaving behind a crisp, heavy mist. Dominic leaned against the stone balustrade, looking out over the treeline.
"Carmine’s men captured one of the shooters from last night," Dominic said without preamble, his voice dropping into that quiet, dangerous register.
Sadie’s stomach tightened. "What did he say?"
"He confirmed what we suspected. Marco Moretti put a price on your head the moment he learned my mother survived," Dominic explained, turning to look at her. "He wants to eliminate you before you can give a formal statement to the federal prosecutors who are investigating the arson."
"Federal prosecutors?" Sadie repeated, bewildered. "I haven't talked to any prosecutors!"
"They will contact you soon," Dominic said. "And when they do, your testimony will put Marco Moretti in a federal penitentiary for the rest of his life. That makes you the most dangerous person in Chicago to him."
Sadie wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the chill of the morning air seep through her sweater. "So I really can't go back."
"No," Dominic said firmly. "You stay here. Under my direct protection."
Sadie looked up at him, studying the sharp angle of his jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes, and the quiet power that seemed to hum around him constantly. "And what does direct protection mean, Dominic? Am I a guest, a witness, or a hostage?"
Dominic stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. He reached out, his hand hovering near her face for a moment before his fingers gently tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. His touch was shockingly soft for a man whose hands carried so much violence.
"You are the woman who saved my mother," Dominic said, his voice a low velvet thread that made her heart skip a beat. "You are under my personal protection. That means as long as I draw breath, no one touches a hair on your head. You wanted for nothing before this, Sadie, but from this moment on, you will have everything you need."
Sadie’s breath caught in her throat. The intensity between them was undeniable—a magnetic, dangerous friction that neither of them could ignore.
Suddenly, Carmine burst onto the terrace, his face pale and urgent.
"Boss," Carmine said, holding out a secure satellite phone. "We have a problem at the South Side warehouse. The Morettis just launched a raid on our primary shipping hub. They're trying to force a confrontation."
Dominic’s expression instantly turned to absolute ice. The warmth that had briefly touched his eyes vanished, replaced by the terrifying aura of the Castile Don.
May you like
"Get the men," Dominic ordered, taking the phone. He looked back at Sadie, his dark eyes locking onto hers one last time. "Stay inside the house, Sadie. Don't leave the perimeter."
As Dominic strode away to wage war, Sadie stood on the terrace, realizing with growing dread that the fire she had run into two nights ago was now consuming the entire city—and she was right at the center of the storm.
