Chapter 6 - The Counter-Trap
By 4:00 a.m., the safehouse had been secured by a fresh convoy of loyal Vitali enforcers, and Marcus had been treated by a private physician and cleared of life-threatening injuries.
Rose had fallen back asleep in a secure underground bunker suite beneath the property, exhausted by the night's events.
In the upstairs office, Dominic stood before a large whiteboard where the final pieces of the puzzle were laid out. On the table sat the ledger, the cassette tape, and the newly acquired audio logs from Serena’s tapped cell phone.
I walked in carrying two mugs of fresh coffee, handing one to him.
He took it, his fingers brushing mine. “You should be resting, Emily.”
“I can’t sleep,” I said honestly, sitting on the leather couch. “Not until this is over. What happens now?”
Dominic took a sip of the black coffee, his expression carved from granite. “Serena called Marco thirty minutes ago. She believes the hit squad succeeded in eliminating you and the child, but she thinks I’m still completely in the dark, flying back from New York early this morning.”
“She doesn't know the assault failed?”
“The assault team carried localized signal jammers,” Dominic explained. “They never transmitted a confirmation. Marco’s team assumes the safehouse went completely dark because the mission was accomplished. I am going to let them keep believing that for another twelve hours.”
“Why?”
Dominic tapped the whiteboard. “Because Friday night is still the trap at Warehouse 17. Marco expects to ambush me there at 9:30 p.m. If I strike at him now, his corrupt contacts in city hall and law enforcement will cover his tracks. He’ll post bail, flee the country, or tie the assets up in litigation for decades. I don't want him behind bars on an embezzlement charge, Emily.”
His eyes flashed with a cold, terrifying clarity. “I want him completely destroyed. I want him to walk into Warehouse 17 believing he has won everything, only to realize he has stepped into his own execution chamber.”
“And Serena?”
Dominic’s lips curled into a mirthless smile. “I’m going home to have breakfast with my loving girlfriend.”
Three hours later, Dominic’s town car pulled into the driveway of the main Vitali estate in Chicago.
He wore a fresh suit, carried a weekend garment bag, and looked like a man returning from a routine business trip. As he walked through the grand front entrance, Serena came gliding down the marble staircase, wearing a stunning lavender silk robe, her face radiant with anticipation.
“Dominic!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re home early! I missed you so much.”
Dominic wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck, masking the pure revulsion coursing through his veins. “I couldn't stay away from you, darling. The New York meetings finished ahead of schedule.”
Serena pulled back, studying his face carefully. “Did you... hear from Emily? The head housekeeper said she packed her things and left with Rose yesterday. Without even saying goodbye!”
“Really?” Dominic arched an eyebrow with casual indifference. “Housekeepers come and go, Serena. She probably realized this house was too demanding for a single mother. Forget about them. Tonight is what matters.”
Serena’s eyes gleamed with suppressed triumph. “Tonight?”
“The harbor shipment at Warehouse 17,” Dominic said, walking toward the dining room. “There’s an inventory discrepancy I need to oversee personally at 9:30. But once that’s settled, you and I are flying to Lake Como for a month. Just the two of us.”
Serena’s smile widened, dazzling and venomous. “That sounds like heaven, darling. Let me pour you some fresh juice.”
As she turned toward the kitchen, Dominic watched her reflection in the gilded hallway mirror.
She had no idea that the federal prosecutor, the chief of the Illinois State Police, and thirty elite tactical officers had already received certified copies of Anthony Vitali’s ledger and the recorded confession.
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The stage was set. The wolves thought the shepherd was unarmed.
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