Chapter 4 - Blood on the Canvas
The heavy double doors at the end of the gymnasium blew inward, splintering the aged oak frame.
Four armed enforcers wearing tactical vests and carrying suppressed submachine guns poured into the hallway, their boots slamming against the concrete floor as they fanned out in a textbook flanking maneuver. Leading the charge was Dominic Vale himself, his face twisted into a mask of frantic, desperate fury, a heavy revolver gripped in his right hand.
“Kelletti!” Dominic roared, his voice bouncing off the high brick walls like thunder. “I know you’re in here! Give it up, Vince! The old man’s era is over!”
From behind the ring post, Vincent didn't flinch. He glanced down at Cassidy, who was crouched low against the canvas, her breathing steady, her eyes scanning the angles of the room with cold, calculating focus.
“Can you handle yourself if things go sideways?” Vincent whispered, his eyes locked on the approaching shadows.
“Try me,” Cassidy muttered back, her hand reaching out to grab a heavy, iron-weighted training dumbbell resting near the ring corner.
Vincent gave a single, sharp nod.
Bang.
A suppressed round punched through the wooden bleachers twenty feet to their left, showering splinters across the floor. Dominic’s men were blind-firing, trying to flush them out of the ring enclosure.
“Covering fire in three... two... one,” Vincent murmured.
He rose from behind the post in a flash, squeezing off two rapid, controlled shots toward the overhead rafters, shattering a row of security lights and plunging half the gymnasium into deep, chaotic shadow.
Shouts of surprise echoed from the intruders.
“Now!” Vincent barked.
Cassidy didn't hesitate. She vaulted over the top rope of the boxing ring, dropping silently onto the hardwood floor behind the flanking position of the nearest enforcer. Before the man could pivot his weapon, Cassidy swung the heavy iron dumbbell in a tight, devastating arc, catching him squarely across the side of his tactical helmet.
The enforcer dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the floor.
Cassidy stripped the tactical sidearm from his belt holster in less than two seconds, checking the safety, cocking the slide, and pivoting toward the second intruder just as he swung his weapon around.
Click.
She didn't freeze. She dropped flat to the floor as a burst of suppressed fire chewed through the air right where her head had been a second earlier. Sweeping her right leg in a vicious low kick, she caught the second enforcer behind his knees, sending him crashing backward onto a rack of medicine balls.
Across the gymnasium, the sound of gunfire echoed sharply. Vincent moved like a ghost through the shadows, neutralizing the remaining two guards with ruthless efficiency—disarming one with a swift kick to the wrist and putting another in a chokehold until he slumped unconscious against the wall.
That left only one.
Dominic Vale stood alone in the center of the illuminated ring approach, his heavy revolver raised, his chest heaving as he scanned the dark corners of the gym.
“Vince! You coward! Come out and face me!” Dominic screamed, his voice cracking with panic.
“I’m right here, Dom,” Vincent’s voice echoed from the darkness near the heavy bags.
Dominic spun toward the sound, raising his gun—but before he could pull the trigger, a heavy leather training bag swung violently out of the dark, driven by a massive kick, catching Dominic squarely in the chest and sending him flying backward onto the canvas ring.
The heavy revolver flew from his hand, skittering across the floorboards.
Vincent stepped out from the shadows, his pistol leveled directly at Dominic’s forehead. A thin line of blood trickled down Vincent’s left cheek from a grazing splinter, but otherwise, he looked untouchable.
Dominic lay gasping for air on the canvas, staring up into the barrel of the gun, his eyes wide with absolute terror.
“You... you can’t do this, Vince,” Dominic choked out, blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. “The Doyles... they’ll tear your whole organization apart if I don't report back!”
“Let them try,” Vincent said coldly, cocking the hammer of his pistol. “Because unlike your uncle, I’m not waiting for them to make the first move.”
Before Vincent could pull the trigger, a small, firm hand touched his forearm.
Vincent glanced down.
Cassidy stood beside him, her face calm, her grip on the stolen tactical pistol steady and unwavering.
“Don’t,” she said softly.
Vincent frowned, his eyes narrowing. “He’s a traitor, Cassidy. He helped orchestrate the hit on your father.”
“I know,” Cassidy replied, her voice dropping into a chilling, unbreakable register. She lowered the safety on her own weapon and stepped directly over Dominic’s terrified form, looking down at the giant lieutenant with absolute, pitiless contempt. “Killing him here makes us executioners in the dark. My father didn't spend twenty years hiding in the shadows just for us to act like the animals who hunted him.”
She looked up at Vincent, meeting his dark gaze with fierce intensity.
“We don’t kill him, Vincent. We hand him over to the federal task force my father’s files were addressed to. We let the law finish what Patrick started.”
Vincent stared at her for a long, silent moment. The raw, commanding fury in his eyes slowly melted into a deep, profound respect. He lowered his pistol, sliding it smoothly back into his holster.
“Patrick would be proud of you,” Vincent said quietly.
May you like
Dominic let out a ragged breath of relief, sagging against the canvas.
“Don’t get comfortable, Dom,” Vincent added, his voice turning ice-cold as he looked down at the traitorous lieutenant. “The feds are going to love the offshore bank records we found on your phone. Enjoy your federal prison cell.”
