Chapter 3 - Shadows of the Past
The back of Dominic’s armored Mercedes smelled of cedar, old leather, and rain.
The city blurred past the bulletproof windows as the car slipped out of the Loop and headed north toward the lake. Inside the cabin, the partition was up, sealing off the driver and Marcus in the front.
Nora sat on the edge of the plush leather seat, her hands clutched tightly in her lap, staring down at her cheap black shoes. The name tag—Grace—was still pinned to her stained apron.
“Take it off,” Dominic said quietly.
Nora looked up, confused.
“The badge,” Dominic gestured to her chest. “Take it off, Nora.”
With trembling fingers, she unpinned the plastic tag and dropped it into the small storage pocket beside the door. She let out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of five months of hiding.
“Why?” Dominic asked, his voice steady as he watched her. “Why were you working under an alias in a second-rate lounge on the South Side? You had a trust fund. Eli’s insurance payout alone should have kept you comfortable for a decade.”
Nora let out a dry, humorless laugh that sounded like glass breaking.
“Insurance?” she looked at him with dark, piercing eyes. “What insurance, Dominic? The moment Eli’s car went up in flames, the accounts were frozen. The bank auditors claimed there were ‘irregularities’ in his engineering firm’s books. Within two weeks, my apartment was seized, my credit cards were declined, and men in cheap suits were following me every time I walked to the grocery store.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed, a dark fire igniting in his chest. “Who?”
“I don't know,” she whispered, wrapping her arms protectively around her protruding belly. “Men with cold eyes. They didn't threaten me directly, but they didn't have to. Every time I tried to rent a new place, the landlord would call back twenty minutes later saying the apartment was suddenly unavailable. I had to use a fake name just to get a job wiping tables so I could afford prenatal care.”
Dominic’s fist clenched against his knee.
Five months. For five months, Nora had been living in the shadows of Chicago, eating out of convenience stores, sleeping in drafty sublets, hiding from the syndicate hounds while he sat in his fortress in Highland Park believing she had vanished into the suburbs to grieve in peace.
“You should have called me,” Dominic said, though the words tasted like ash.
“Called you?” Nora turned on him, sudden fire flashing in her dark eyes. “And brought your war to my doorstep? Dominic, everyone in this city knows who you are! The day Eli died, the police told me it was a tragic accident. But you and I both know the truth. The bomb under that SUV wasn’t meant for Eli—it was a message sent to the Kane organization. If I had reached out to you, whoever killed my husband would have finished the job on my unborn child.”
Dominic did not look away. He absorbed her fury because she was right.
In his world, association was a death sentence. To be close to Dominic Kane was to stand under a guillotine suspended by a thread. He had built his empire on blood, fear, and ruthless pragmatism, believing that isolation was the only way to keep the people he cared about safe.
Claire, his wife, had died because of it.
Eli, his brother-in-arms, had died because of it.
And now, Nora was paying the price for his sins.
“That ends tonight,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, absolute register that left no room for argument.
The Mercedes slowed, turning through a pair of towering wrought-iron gates guarded by armed men in black tactical gear. The vehicle glided up the winding driveway of the Highland Park estate, stopping beneath the grand portico of the main house.
Nora looked out the window at the familiar stone walls, the heavy oak doors, and the glowing amber lanterns casting long shadows across the courtyard.
“No,” Nora said, shaking her head as she reached for the door handle. “I am not staying here, Dominic. I’m not going to live in your fortress like a prisoner or a charity case.”
“You’re not staying as a prisoner,” Dominic said, opening his door and stepping out into the cool night air before walking around to open hers. He offered her his hand—large, steady, and unyielding. “You’re staying because this is where Eli would have wanted his child to be born.”
May you like
Nora looked at his outstretched hand. The rain began to fall again, pattering softly against the stone.
With a tired, defeated sigh, she placed her small, cold hand in his.
