Chapter 6 - The Package at the Gate
Ten minutes later, the secure package sat in the center of the heavy mahogany dining table in the mansion’s ground-floor study.
Dominic, Elias, and Fiona stood around the table. The box was wrapped in plain brown butcher paper, secured with heavy red industrial tape, and bore a handwritten label with Fiona’s exact name and her former address at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
“Don’t touch it,” Dominic ordered, his hand resting protectively near Fiona’s shoulder. He signaled to Elias.
Elias stepped forward with a pair of tactical medical shears, carefully slicing through the industrial tape. He peeled back the thick layers of cardboard and bubble wrap with practiced caution.
Inside lay a single, pristine white envelope and a heavy glass jar filled with a dark, amber-colored liquid.
Fiona peered closer at the jar. Inside the liquid floated a collection of small, rusted sewing needles identical to the ones found in Arthur’s pillow.
“A message,” Elias muttered, his hand dropping toward his holster.
Dominic ignored the jar, his focus locked entirely on the white envelope. He used a pair of metal tweezers to slide a folded sheet of heavy cardstock out from inside.
He unfolded it and read the words printed in neat, block capital letters:
NURSE JENKINS, YOU PLAYED A DANGEROUS GAME IN THAT HOUSE. VICTORIA WAS JUST A PAWN. THE PEOPLE WHO CONTROL THE BOARD DON’T LOSE PIECES EASILY. DROP THE INVESTIGATION, LEAVE THE COSTELLO ESTATE, OR YOUR MOTHER’S APARTMENT IN EVANSTON WILL EXPERIENCE A VERY UNFORTUNATE GAS LEAK TONIGHT.
Fiona’s blood turned to ice.
Her mother.
For the past three years, her mother—recovering from a severe stroke that left her wheelchair-bound—lived quietly in a small apartment complex in Evanston, sustained by Medicare and the meager nursing salary Fiona sent home every month.
“My mother,” Fiona whispered, her hands flying to her mouth as panic seized her chest. “They know about my mother.”
Dominic didn’t hesitate for a single second.
“Elias,” he commanded, his voice exploding with the raw, terrifying authority of an underworld king mobilizing an army. “Call the Evanston detail. Double the guard on Margaret Jenkins’s apartment immediately. Put a decoy vehicle outside her building, and move her to the secure medical safehouse in Lincoln Park within twenty minutes. If anyone so much as breathes near her building, put them in the ground.”
“On it, Boss!” Elias barked, spinning around and shouting commands into his encrypted comms unit as he sprinted out of the study.
Fiona stared at Dominic, tears welling in her eyes, her entire body shaking with terror. “They’ll kill her, Dominic. They’ll hurt her just to get to me—or to get to you.”
Dominic stepped forward, grabbing both of her trembling hands in his large, warm palms. He squeezed them with an absolute, unshakeable strength that anchored her to the floor.
“Listen to me, Fiona,” Dominic said, his icy blue eyes burning into hers with a ferocious intensity. “Nobody touches your mother. Nobody touches you. I built this empire with blood and iron, and I will tear down every cartel, every syndicate, and every corporate board in this country before I let anyone lay a finger on the people who saved my son.”
Fiona looked up into his face, seeing not the feared mafia boss the city whispered about in dark restaurants, but a man fiercely, desperately protective of his world.
And in that moment, the last defensive barrier around her heart finally gave way.
“What do we do?” she asked, her voice steadying as the panic receded behind a wave of cold, shared determination.
May you like
Dominic’s mouth curved into a grim, dangerous smile.
“We stop playing defense,” he said softly. “We hunt them down.”
