Chapter 6 - The Shadows of the Council
The golden light of morning proves to be a fleeting mercy. By mid-afternoon, the sky over Chicago had turned the color of bruised slate again, heavy with the promise of more snow.
While the mansion looked peaceful on the surface, the underworld operates on blood and pride. Elena's father, Don Vance, had surrendered three shipping docks under the initial shock of her capture, but a wounded predator never stayed quiet for long.
I stood in the grand dining room, polishing a silver tea service, when Raphael walked in. His jacket was unbuttoned, his tie loosened, and his face wore the bone-deep weariness of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours.
"You should be resting, Lucy," Raphael said, leaning against the massive mahogany table. "Dominic ordered you to take the week off. Paid, obviously."
"If I sit in my room doing nothing, I'll go out of my mind," I replied, setting down the polishing cloth. "Besides, I know that look on your face. What happened?"
Raphael rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting out a long breath. "The High Council called an emergency summit for tomorrow night. The five syndicate heads want proof that Dominic is fit to lead. Word leaked that he was poisoned and shot within seventy-two hours. They think he's weak."
"He's not weak," I said sharply, my hand tightening around the silver teapot. "He took down an assassin and survived a lethal dose of aconite."
"They don't care about facts, Lucy. They care about blood in the water," Raphael sobbed. "And Don Vance is orchestrating the whole thing from the shadows. He's claiming Dominic held Elena hostage unjustly, using her as a scapegoat to cover up his own internal incompetence."
The heavy oak doors opened, and Dominic walked in. He wore a sharp, tailored three-piece charcoal suit that hid the thick white bandages underneath. His hair was brushed back, his jaw was freshly shaved, and his posture was as unyielding as a steel beam. But I knew him now. I saw the faint tight set of his lips that signaled his shoulder was throbbing with every step.
"Let Vance talk," Dominic said, his baritone voice filling the room with effortless authority. "A dog barks loudest right before it gets put down."
"Dominic, it's a trap," Raphael warned, turning to face him. "The summit is on neutral ground at the Grand Sovereign Hotel. You can only bring two men inside. Vance will have the room stacked against you."
"Then I'll take you," Dominic replied calmly, walking over to stand beside me. His dark eyes softened for a fraction of a second as his gaze met mine, his fingers lightly brushing against my waist behind the cover of the dining table. "And I'll bring the evidence."
"The evidence?" I asked, looking up at him. "The digital logs?"
"No," Dominic murmured, a dangerous, razor-thin smile touching his lips. "The woman who tried to murder me."
My blood ran cold. "You're bringing Elena to the Council?"
"She will confess in front of all five families," Dominic said softly, although the promise of violence in his voice was unmistakable. "Or her father's entire syndicate will be dismantled before the sun rises on Sunday."
He looked down at me, his thumb lightly stroking the back of my hand. "Which means tonight, I need to make sure this house is an impenetrable fortress. And you, Lucy, are going to stay in the panic room on the third floor under heavy guard."
I pulled my hand back slightly, narrowing my eyes at him. "I'm not hiding in a room like a damsel in distress, Dominic. I've survived your household for nineteen days. I can handle a snowstorm and a few guards."
Dominic stared at me, exasperation fighting with a deep, fierce pride in his dark eyes.
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"You are infuriating," he whispered, leaning down so only I could hear. "And if anything happens to you while I'm at that summit, I will burn this city to the ground."
"Then make sure you come back alive," I whispered back, pressing my palm against his chest, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart. "Because I still have a lot of tea sets to polish."
