Chapter 3 - The Bloody Corridor
The deafening roar of the mercenary's rifle was still ringing loudly in Dominic's ears.
Arthur Voss collapsed backward onto the expensive carpet, his treacherous life ended by the very people he hired.
The other council members screamed and dove for cover under the heavy mahogany table.
Dominic instantly recognized that these heavily armed men were not here to install a new boss.
They were sent here on a total wipeout mission to slaughter every single member of the syndicate's leadership.
He threw himself behind a solid oak credenza just as a hail of bullets shredded the wall where he had been standing.
Wood splinters and plaster rained down heavily on his tailored suit as he crawled toward the corner of the room.
He spotted Arthur's dropped pistol lying discarded near the base of a shattered potted plant.
Moving with a desperate speed he hadn't possessed in months, Dominic lunged forward and grabbed the cold weapon.
He rolled onto his back and blindly fired two quick shots into the dense cloud of explosive smoke.
A sharp grunt of pain told him that at least one of his bullets had found a soft target in the haze.
He used the brief pause in the incoming gunfire to scan the destroyed room for a viable exit strategy.
The main doorway was completely blocked by the advancing tactical squad of ruthless killers.
The panoramic windows behind him offered a deadly fifty-foot drop onto the jagged rocks of the lakeshore.
Dominic suddenly remembered the hidden architectural features he had installed when he purchased the estate.
Behind the massive oil painting of the Chicago skyline was a narrow, concealed servant's maintenance corridor.
He pushed himself up onto his good leg, providing covering fire as he backed toward the large painting.
The mercenaries returned fire immediately, their bullets ripping through the leather chairs and the cowering council members.
Dominic felt a sickening wave of guilt, but he knew he could not save the cowardly men under the table.
He pressed the hidden latch hidden within the ornate wooden frame of the large oil painting.
The wall silently popped open, revealing a pitch-black, narrow passageway smelling faintly of dust and old wood.
He slipped inside the dark corridor and slammed the hidden panel shut just as a bullet embedded itself in the frame.
He stood in the suffocating darkness, his heart pounding violently against his ribs as he listened to the slaughter outside.
He needed to find Vincent and figure out a way to safely evacuate the remaining loyal staff members.
He cautiously navigated the dark, winding passageway that led directly toward his private security office.
His leg felt incredibly stable, the fixed brace finally allowing him to move without biting his tongue in pain.
He reached the hidden exit panel that opened right behind his personal mahogany desk in the office.
He slowly pushed the panel open, keeping his stolen pistol raised and ready for a close-quarters fight.
The office was completely trashed, with papers scattered everywhere and the security monitors smashed to pieces.
The heavy oak door leading to the hallway had been violently kicked open, its splintered frame hanging loose.
The loyal guard he had posted outside was lying motionless on the floor in a growing pool of dark blood.
Dominic's blood ran ice cold as he frantically scanned the empty room for any sign of life.
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Clare and her four-year-old daughter were completely gone.
A single, brightly colored wooden latch toy was lying abandoned in the middle of the blood-stained carpet.
