Chapter 7 - Blood on the Docks
Dominic’s expression went from calm calculation to absolute, frozen stone in a fraction of a second.
He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.
“Explain,” Dominic commanded, his voice dropping into a lethal hiss.
“The Moretti family,” Marcus said, breathing hard. “They just hit our primary shipping terminal at Slip 4. They torched two containers of imported Italian marble, and they left a message carved into the security gate. They think you’re distracted by the upcoming wedding... they think the Gallagher syndicate is showing weakness.”
The air in the sunlit dining room turned ice-cold.
Harper watched the transformation wash over Dominic. The polished, tailored businessman vanished entirely, replaced by the ruthless, terrifying mafia boss who controlled the violent underbelly of the city with an iron fist.
Dominic reached inside his jacket, pulling out his heavy Sig Sauer and checking the chamber with a crisp, mechanical click.
“Marcus, mobilize the inner-circle enforcers. Have three armored SUVs waiting in the courtyard in three minutes,” Dominic ordered, his voice echoing off the brick walls.
“Boss, should I clear the perimeter here?” Marcus asked, glancing nervously toward Harper. “If the Morettis are making a play, they might try to hit the estate next to send a message.”
“No,” Dominic said, his slate-gray eyes locking onto Harper for one intense, burning second before he turned toward the door. “Nobody touches this estate.”
“Wait!” Harper stood up from her chair, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Dominic stopped at the threshold, turning his head slightly over his shoulder. “Stay inside the perimeter, Harper. This isn't your war.”
“It’s my city too,” Harper fired back, her architectural blueprints, her future, and her newly claimed life flashing before her eyes. “And nobody burns down my waterfront projects or threatens my home while I’m standing in it.”
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Dominic stared at her for a long, heavy heartbeat. A slow, dangerous, fiercely proud smile spread across his face.
“Marcus,” Dominic said quietly. “Get her a ballistic vest.”
