Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the Courtyard
The rain had started to fall over Long Island, a cold September drizzle that made the cobblestones of the courtyard slick and dark.
I walked out through the side entrance near the garages, my leather soles slapping against the wet stone. The estate was quiet, surrounded by twelve-foot stone walls and mature oaks that blocked the view from the highway.
Near the gatehouse, a black SUV was idling, its headlights cutting through the mist.
Victor was leaning against the driver's side door, smoking a cigar, his phone pressed to his ear.
"...yeah, he’s home early," Victor was saying into the phone, his voice carrying through the quiet rain. "I don't know why. He looks burnt out. The kids are still mute... No, he doesn't suspect a thing. Once the dock shipment arrives at midnight, we pin the theft on Luca, take down Dominic in the confusion, and clear the path for the Commission to step in."
He took a drag from his cigar, laughing quietly.
"Isabelle was the smart one," Victor sneered into the receiver. "Dominic is just a musclehead who thinks with his heart. He’s been broken ever since she took that bullet."
I stepped out from the shadow of the garage line.
"Is that right, Victor?" I asked.
Victor froze. The cigar slipped from his fingers, falling into a puddle with a soft hiss.
He spun around, dropping his phone onto the asphalt. His hand moved instantly toward his jacket lining.
"Don't," I warned, stepping into the yellow glow of the SUV's headlights. My gun was already out, aimed squarely at the center of his forehead.
Victor’s eyes widened in genuine shock. He slowly raised his hands, his mouth opening and closing before he found his voice.
"Dominic... what the hell are you doing?" Victor stammered, trying to laugh it off. "It’s me! It’s Victor! Put the piece down, boss, you're high-strung—"
"Fourteen months," I said, my voice as cold as the rain soaking through my shirt. "Fourteen months I sat in that house watching my baby girls wither away into ghosts. I spent millions trying to find out why they couldn't speak."
Victor’s face went chalk-white. "Dominic, whatever you think you heard—"
"They spoke today, Victor," I cut him off, stepping closer until the cold steel barrel of my pistol pressed directly against the bridge of his nose. "Sophie told me about the blue car. She told me about the radio. She told me about the man with the silver gun."
Victor’s breath hitched. The confident underboss vanished, replaced by a terrified rat trapped in a corner.
"Dominic... please," Victor begged, his knees trembling. "It wasn't my idea! The Moretti family from Brooklyn—they put pressure on me! They said if I didn't give them control of the shipping ports, they’d wipe out my whole family! Isabelle found the offshore accounts, she was going to ruin everything—"
"She was my wife," I growled, my finger tightening on the trigger. "And those little girls were your family."
"Wait!" Victor yelled, tears mixing with the rain on his face. "You shoot me here, my men at the front gate will hear it! They have orders! If I don't check in every fifteen minutes, they come up to the house and clean it out! Your kids, Dominic! They’ll kill your kids!"
I paused, my eyes narrowing.
May you like
Suddenly, two pairs of headlights flashed down the long driveway. Two heavy armored sedans were speeding toward the inner courtyard, blocking the main gates.
Victor sneered, a flash of malicious hope returning to his eyes. "That's my backup from Brooklyn. You're too late, Dominic. You should have stayed in the house."
