Chapter 5 - The King in Chains
Dominic’s armored SUV flipped twice before violently crashing into a concrete barrier on the highway.
The world spun in a blur of shattered glass, deployed airbags, and the metallic smell of blood.
He hung upside down in his seatbelt, his vision fading in and out of darkness.
He had been entirely focused on getting to Carrie when a heavy armored truck had slammed into his side.
He desperately patted his pockets, searching for his phone to call her back.
Heavy boots crunched on the broken glass outside the overturned vehicle.
The driver’s side door was viciously pried open with a crowbar, letting the freezing rain pour inside.
Strong hands grabbed Dominic by his suit collar, dragging his battered body out onto the wet asphalt.
He tried to fight back, but his dislocated shoulder and immense blood loss made him hopelessly weak.
A tall man with a thick Russian accent knelt beside him, smiling cruelly.
"Vanessa was right, you are pathetic when you are desperate," the man spat.
Dominic coughed up a mixture of blood and rainwater, his dark eyes burning with defiant rage.
"If my wife dies tonight, I will burn your entire country to ash," Dominic rasped.
The Russian enforcer laughed, kicking Dominic brutally in the ribs.
They dragged him into the back of an unmarked van, zip-tying his wrists behind his back.
Dominic knew they were not going to kill him yet, because they needed his biometric signatures to access his offshore accounts.
He closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his remaining strength on a single thought.
He had to survive long enough to see his child born.
In the back of Daniel’s speeding sedan, Carrie screamed as another contraction tore through her body.
"Breathe, Caroline, you must breathe," Margaret instructed, holding her daughter-in-law's hand tightly.
"We cannot go to a normal hospital," Walter warned from the front seat, checking his rearview mirror constantly.
"The Volkov cartel has people in the NYPD, they will find us in any public registry," Daniel added.
Margaret pulled a burner phone from her purse, her expression hardening into absolute resolve.
"Take us to the underground clinic in Little Italy," Margaret ordered the driver.
Carrie looked at her mother-in-law in horror, realizing she was about to give birth in an illegal mob hospital.
"Is it safe?" Carrie asked, tears mixing with the sweat on her pale face.
"It is owned by our family, it is a fortress," Margaret assured her, wiping Carrie’s forehead with a silk handkerchief.
Daniel slammed on the brakes, turning sharply into a hidden alleyway behind a butcher shop.
They hurried Carrie down a flight of concrete stairs into a brilliantly lit, sterile medical facility.
A team of doctors rushed forward with a stretcher, lifting Carrie onto the soft padding.
"The baby is in distress, we have to perform an emergency cesarean right now," the lead surgeon announced.
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Carrie sobbed, reaching out blindly for her husband who was not there to hold her hand.
Suddenly, the heavy steel doors of the clinic exploded inward with a deafening blast.
