Chapter 2 - The Sound of Seized Authority
The air inside Aurelia went from heavy to absolute zero.
Every eye in the restaurant—from the wealthy socialites at the back booths to the busboys cowering near the kitchen entrance—locked onto Dominic Vale. When Chicago’s most feared mafia boss stopped breathing, the entire room seemed to freeze with him.
Julian Sterling, Dominic’s senior advisor and chief financial officer for twelve years, took a half-step back. His arrogant smile flickered, replaced by a tight, frantic twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Dominic," Julian said, his voice rising just a fraction of an octave too high. "You aren't actually listening to a hysterical waitress and a traumatized child, are you? The girl’s mind has been fractured since the explosion. Everyone knows the trauma scrambled her memory."
Dominic didn’t look at Julian.
His dark, unblinking eyes remained fixed on his daughter. Audrey was still gripping my sleeve, her small knuckles white, her chest heaving as the horrific memories of a night she had buried for two years clawed their way back to the surface.
"Audrey," Dominic said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that carried across the silent room. He knelt down beside her, ignoring the expensive cuffs of his tailored suit brushing against the spilled water on the floor. "Look at me, little bird."
Audrey slowly turned her head, meeting her father’s intense gaze.
He lied, her small hands signed, moving with fierce, desperate speed. He told us to stay in the car. He came back inside. He had the oil can. Mommy yelled.
Dominic’s breathing hitched.
Two years ago, a devastating car bomb had destroyed the Vale family estate in the suburbs, killing Dominic’s wife, Elena, and leaving little Audrey trapped in a silent world of shock and deafening tinnitus. The police ruled it a hit by a rival syndicate, the Chicago Syndicate's bitter enemies from the North Side. Dominic had spent twenty-four months waging a brutal, bloody shadow war, executing half a dozen rival capos to avenge his wife.
He had trusted Julian implicitly. Julian had been the one to pull Julian from the burning wreckage of the office two years prior. Julian was the loyal brother-in-arms who managed the accounts, vetted the men, and kept the empire running while Dominic hunted ghosts.
Dominic slowly stood up.
He didn't look like a businessman anymore. He looked like an executioner.
"Julian," Dominic murmured.
"Boss—Dominic, listen to me," Julian stammered, his hand darting toward his left breast pocket where a custom-tooled Beretta rested in a shoulder holster. "She’s a plant! The Mercer family—they’re trying to tear us apart from the inside! You know who her father was, don't you? Kenneth Mercer! Her family has hated us for decades!"
I froze.
The name Mercer hung in the air like a dropped blade. My dying father had begged me on his deathbed never to let anyone in Chicago connect me to that name. How did Julian know?
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Before I could process the shock, Julian’s hand cleared his jacket, clutching the black steel grip of his pistol.
"Traitor!" Julian roared, leveling the barrel straight at Dominic’s chest.
