Chapter 1 - The Coat Room
Dominic did not look back at his brother.
He moved through the crowded ballroom with the predatory grace of a starving wolf.
His hands were relaxed at his sides, but his blood was rapidly turning to ice.
The string quartet played a cheerful waltz, completely masking the deadly tension radiating from him.
Arthur was the family’s oldest and most trusted accountant.
The old man knew the location of every single offshore account and buried secret.
If Arthur was truly dead, the Castillion syndicate was already bleeding from the inside out.
Dominic pushed through the heavy velvet curtains leading to the back corridor.
The hallway was eerily empty, completely stripped of his usual security details.
The silence was heavier than the humid summer air outside.
He reached the heavy oak door of the coat room and pushed it open.
The metallic, sickening smell of fresh blood hit him before his eyes could adjust to the dim light.
Arthur was slumped against a rack of expensive mink coats.
His tailored tuxedo was completely ruined by a massive, dark crimson stain.
His throat had been slashed with brutal, terrifying precision.
Dominic stepped closer to inspect the body, his jaw clenching tight with suppressed rage.
Whoever did this was a professional who knew exactly how to bypass the internal security cameras.
Suddenly, a muffled scream echoed heavily from the adjacent service stairwell.
He instantly recognized the voice as Clara's.
Dominic drew his customized Kimber 1911 and kicked the heavy metal stairwell door open.
Two of Vincent’s men were aggressively dragging Clara up the steep concrete steps by her hair.
She kicked wildly, her high heels echoing loudly in the narrow, echoing space.
Dominic fired twice without a single second of hesitation.
Both men dropped dead before they even realized they were under attack.
Clara gasped for air, her beautiful evening gown torn at the shoulder.
Dominic reached out and pulled her trembling body protectively against his chest.
He could feel her heart hammering wildly against his own ribcage.
He turned around to lead her safely back to the main exit.
Tommy, his oldest and most loyal enforcer, was standing in the doorway with his gun raised.
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Tommy pointed the cold steel barrel directly at Dominic’s forehead.
"Sorry, Boss," Tommy whispered, pulling the heavy trigger.
