Chapter 6 - The Safehouse
I didn't think; I just reacted with pure, unadulterated instinct.
I violently shoved Dominic backward just as the sniper rifle fired from the upper catwalk of the loading dock.
The high-caliber bullet completely missed his chest, grazing deeply along the side of his left arm instead.
Dominic hit the ground hard but immediately rolled into a kneeling position and fired three rapid shots into the shadows above.
A heavy body plummeted forcefully from the catwalk, crashing onto the concrete floor with a sickening thud.
The sniper was dead.
I scrambled over to Dominic, frantically pressing my trembling hands against his bleeding arm.
"I am fine," he gritted out, though his face was visibly pale from the sudden pain.
The sound of screeching tires echoed outside the loading dock as two armored black SUVs violently smashed through the security gates.
Dominic's extraction team had finally arrived.
Several of his men poured out of the vehicles, heavily armed and securing the entire perimeter instantly.
"Get her in the car!" Dominic barked at his men, refusing any medical attention for himself.
I was shoved into the back of a luxurious, bulletproof SUV, and Dominic climbed in right beside me.
The convoy sped aggressively away from the shipping yard, disappearing completely into the dark streets of Baltimore.
We drove in absolute silence for almost forty minutes, taking complex, evasive routes to ensure we were not followed.
We finally arrived at a massive, heavily fortified penthouse located in the heart of the financial district.
Once inside the luxurious safehouse, Dominic finally allowed his private doctor to stitch his arm.
I sat on a velvet sofa, my mind racing violently through the terrifying events of the night.
My father had framed me, the Russian cartel wanted me dead, and my mother had apparently been a criminal mastermind.
Dominic walked into the living room, dismissing the doctor with a sharp wave of his hand.
He poured two glasses of expensive amber whiskey and handed one to me.
"Drink it," he commanded softly.
I took a sip, the burning liquid finally settling my violently shaking nerves.
"Why are you protecting me?" I asked him, looking deeply into his intense gray eyes.
"You could have just killed my father and taken the shipping routes by force."
Dominic sat in the armchair across from me, swirling the whiskey in his heavy glass.
"Because the person who set up that computer in your archive room is trying to start a massive war between my family and the Volkov cartel," he explained.
"And they used your mother's name to guarantee that I would specifically seek you out tonight."
I placed my glass on the coffee table, my logistical mind rapidly connecting the missing pieces.
"Whoever stole the money wants you to think the Russians did it, and wants the Russians to think you did it," I reasoned.
"Exactly," Dominic agreed, a hint of genuine admiration flashing in his eyes.
"And they needed someone with your exact security clearance to bypass the federal impound and release the weapons."
I pulled out my phone, staring at the threatening text message I had received in the loading dock.
"Someone on the inside of my family's company is orchestrating this entire war," I concluded.
"I need to access the offshore banking network to trace where that ten million dollars actually landed."
Dominic handed me a sleek, state-of-the-art encrypted tablet.
"Do it," he said.
I typed furiously for several minutes, breaking through layers of complex financial routing codes.
I finally found the exact destination of the missing money.
"I found it," I told him, my voice completely dropping to a terrified whisper.
"Where is the money?" Dominic asked, standing up.
"It wasn't transferred to a bank account," I revealed, turning the screen around to show him.
"It was used to quietly purchase a massive cargo ship that is currently docking at Pier 4 right now."
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I looked at the registration name on the ship's manifest.
"And the registered owner of the ship is my stepmother, Rebecca."
