Chapter 5 - The House on Beacon Hill
The Vance estate on Beacon Hill stood behind eight-foot wrought-iron gates, surrounded by brick walls and covered in ancient ivy. From the street, it looked like the historic mansion of a nineteenth-century sea captain. Inside, it was a fortress equipped with bulletproof glass, thermal cameras, and six armed men who moved like shadows through the hallways.
When the heavy black Suburban pulled into the brick courtyard, the front doors were opened by a woman in her late fifties with sharp gray eyes and a crisp black dress.
"Mr. Vance," the woman said, stepping aside. "The perimeter is secure. Dr. Aris is waiting in the study."
"Thank you, Mrs. Gable," Dominic said, setting Mila down on the marble foyer floor.
The moment her feet hit the ground, Mila didn't run to her toys or toward the grand staircase. She grabbed Josie’s hand, wrapping her small fingers around Josie’s wrist with a grip remarkably firm for a six-year-old.
"This is Josie," Mila told Mrs. Gable proudly. "She makes the crispy bread."
Mrs. Gable’s eyes widened slightly. She looked at Dominic, then back down at the little girl who hadn't spoken a sentence in a year and a half.
"It is an honor to meet you, Miss Josie," Mrs. Gable said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I will have the kitchen prepare fresh tea and soup immediately."
"Thank you," Josie murmured, looking up at the vaulted ceilings, the oil paintings of Boston harbor, and the polished mahogany banisters. It was a world so far removed from her cramped, two-bedroom apartment in Dorchester that she felt like an alien who had landed on another planet.
Dominic led them upstairs to a massive private suite on the second floor. The room was decorated in warm creams and soft blues, filled with books, stuffed animals, and a large four-poster bed.
While Mila sat on the rug showing Josie her collection of painted wooden horses, Dominic stood by the doorway, watching them through the reflection in the window pane.
A tall man in a dark suit tapped Dominic on the shoulder. It was Frank, his knuckles freshly bandaged.
"We have Tate in the cellar at the warehouse," Frank reported in a low whisper. "He gave up Paulie Driscoll's private codes. Driscoll knows something went wrong at the pub—his phone went straight to burner encryption ten minutes ago."
Dominic’s expression hardened instantly into stone. "Where is Driscoll now?"
"Word on the street says he’s holed up at the docks in East Boston," Frank replied. "He’s gathering his loyal captains. He knows if you get to him first, he’s a dead man. He’s going to hit us before sunrise."
Dominic looked back at his daughter, who was laughing softly as Josie made one of the wooden horses 'hop' over a velvet pillow.
"He won't get near this house," Dominic whispered. "Double the guards on the gate. Put snipers on the roof. And call Brigham and Women’s Hospital. I want Caleb Morrow moved into the private VIP wing under armed security before midnight."
"Right away, Boss," Frank said, turning to leave.
"Frank," Dominic added.
"Yeah?"
"Tell the hospital that if Caleb Morrow so much as coughs, I want the chief of medicine in his room within three minutes."
Frank nodded once and vanished down the corridor.
Dominic stepped into the bedroom. He stood beside the bed, looking down at Josie, who was sitting on the floor with her legs folded, looking exhausted but deeply content.
"Your brother has just been transferred," Dominic said quietely. "He is in a private room at Brigham and Women's. Two of my best men are standing outside his door."
Josie looked up, her hazel eyes wide. "You didn't have to do that yet."
"I do things on my timeline, Miss Morrow," Dominic said. He sat down on the edge of the leather armchair nearby, leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees. "Tomorrow, Paulie Driscoll will try to burn this city to the ground to save himself. I am going to end him. But tonight... my daughter is safe because of you."
Mila climbed up onto the bed, pulled the heavy duvet over her knees, and held out her hand toward Josie.
"Joey stay?" Mila asked, her small eyelids growing heavy.
May you like
Josie looked at Dominic. His dark eyes held a silent, desperate plea that no amount of money or mafia power could ever enforce. He was a father asking for his child’s peace.
Josie reached out and took Mila’s hand. "I’m right here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."
