Chapter 3 - The Crossroads of Blood
The restaurant erupted into chaos.
Screams bounced off the crystal chandeliers as diners dove beneath tables and scattered toward the exits. Dominic’s bodyguards—four heavily armed professionals trained for urban warfare—drew their weapons in a blur of motion, but Julian had already backed up against the mahogany bar, using the heavy wooden structure as cover with a hostage arm wrapped around the nearest bartender.
"Nobody move!" Julian screamed, spit flying from his lips, his face purple with manic panic. "Drop your weapons or I blow his head off!"
Dominic didn't flinch. He didn't even drop his gaze from Julian. He stood completely still, a towering statue of pure, unadulterated wrath.
"You think you're the smartest man in this room, Julian," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You thought you could burn my house down, kill my wife, and let a rival syndicate take the blame so you could step into my shoes."
"You were getting soft, Dominic!" Julian shrieked, his finger trembling on the trigger of the Beretta. "You let a woman cloud your judgment! You wanted peace with the North Side while our empires were rotting! I had to take control!"
While Julian was ranting, screaming his confession to the empty air and the cowering witnesses, my eyes dropped to his left hand.
The wet linen sleeve of his shirt had ridden up three inches.
There, stark against his pale skin, was a web of jagged, discolored burn scars wrapping around his wrist and disappearing under his cuff—the exact kind of thermal burn caused by a backdraft flash fire from an accelerated explosion.
Audrey tugged at my apron. She pointed at Julian’s wrist, her eyes flashing with a terrifying clarity.
He burned it on the door, she signed rapidly. When he slammed it to lock us in.
I didn't think. Instinct, forged from years of surviving in a world of wolves, took over.
As Julian’s eyes flicked toward Dominic to gauge his next move, I grabbed the heavy, half-full glass pitcher of ice water still sitting on the edge of the adjacent table and hurled it directly into Julian’s face.
The shock of freezing water and ice hitting his eyes caused Julian to flinch violently. His grip on the bartender slipped.
May you like
That microsecond of distraction was all Dominic’s guards needed.
A muffled thip-thip of suppressed firearms echoed through the room. Two 9mm rounds struck Julian squarely in the shoulder and knee. The pistol flew from his hand, clattering across the hardwood floor, and Julian collapsed in a heap of blood and curses, pinned down by three massive bodyguards within seconds.
