PART 2: THE RECKONING IN BEACON HILL
PART 2: THE RECKONING IN BEACON HILL
The air inside the Boston basement apartment became instantly suffocating. Meline tried to pull away from his grip, her palms pressing against the smooth black fabric of his shirt, but Dominic was a wall of muscle. He didn't squeeze her; he simply remained unyielding, a king reclaiming lost territory.
"Let go of me," Meline breathed, her voice cracking as she looked up into the sharp angles of his face. "Go back to Chicago, Dominic. Go back to Seraphina. Your wedding press release went out months ago. You have an empire to run."
Dominic's expression didn't change, but his jaw clenched so hard a small muscle pulsed beneath his skin. "You listened to the hallway gossip, Meline. You heard what I needed Seraphina’s father to hear, and then you ran into a blizzard."
"You called me a civilian!" she shouted softly, the nosedive of her emotions finally breaking through her restraint. "You told her I was a liability! That I would be handled quietly with a generous severance!"
"Because the Duca family had two hitmen sitting in the lobby of my building!" Dominic’s voice finally rose, a low growl that vibrated through the small room. "If Seraphina knew you carried my blood, you wouldn't have made it to the state line, Meline. The severance wasn't to get rid of you. It was a dummy paper trail to make my underboss think I had discarded you while my private security team moved you to a safe house in Switzerland."
Meline froze, her breathing catching in her throat. She looked at his dark eyes, searching for the lie she had spent three months convincing herself was there.
"You think I would let my child grow up in a basement?" Dominic asked, his fingers gently moving up to touch the side of her neck, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You think I would let another man raise a Valente?"
Before Meline could answer, the frosted glass window near the ceiling shattered.
CRASH.
A heavy black tear-gas canister rolled across the linoleum floor, spewing thick, white chemical smoke into the nursery.
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Dominic didn't hesitate. In a single fluid motion, he threw his suit jacket over Meline’s head, lifting her completely off her feet and shielding her pregnant belly with his own chest as he lunged toward the back exit.
From the hallway above, the rapid, muffled thuds of suppressed automatic weapons began to chew through the wooden door frame.
