Chapter 14 - The Wrath of a Father
The armored gates of the estate were already shattered when Dominic’s black convoy roared up the driveway, throwing up sheets of crushed snow and ice.
Dominic didn't wait for the vehicle to stop completely.
He kicked the door open at thirty miles per hour, hitting the frozen gravel in a sprint, a tactical shotgun in his hands, his face twisted into an expression of murderous madness.
He stepped over the bodies of three fallen Vale guards in the foyer, his eyes locking onto the blood trails leading toward the library.
When he reached the arched threshold, he saw the Russian operative leveling his weapon at Sophia.
A sound tore from Dominic’s chest—not human, not civilized, but the primal roar of a beast whose mate was cornered.
Dominic fired.
The heavy slug tore through the Russian’s torso, hurling him violently across the library, shattering a walnut bookcase before he crumpled lifeless to the floor.
Dominic dropped the weapon, his boots sliding on the bloody marble as he hit his knees between Sophia and Eleanor.
“Sophia!” he choked, his hands violently searching her body, checking her shoulders, her ribs, her abdomen. “Did they hit you? Are you bleeding? *Talk to me!*”
“I’m okay! I’m not hit!” Sophia was sobbing now, the adrenaline collapsing into frantic tears as she grabbed his face. “It’s Eleanor! Dominic, they shot your mother!”
Dominic turned instantly. Eleanor was pale, her breathing shallow and ragged, her hand still clutching the spent shotgun shell.
“Dominic…” Eleanor whispered, her fingers fluttering against his cheek, leaving smears of red on his pale skin. “She didn't run… the girl stood… she protected the name…”
“Save your strength, Mother,” Dominic ordered, his voice breaking as he ripped off his tuxedo jacket to press it against her bleeding torso. “Caleb! Paramedics! *Get the trauma kit now!*”
Caleb burst into the room with two medics who had traveled in the secondary convoy. Within seconds, they were cutting away Eleanor’s clothes, applying chest seals, and administering oxygen.
“Pulse is thready, but she’s alive,” the lead medic shouted over the sirens outside. “We need to airlift her to Northwestern immediately!”
Dominic stood slowly, pulling Sophia into his arms, crushing her against his chest as the medics lifted Eleanor onto the gurney and rushed her out through the storm.
Sophia buried her face into his neck, weeping uncontrollably, feeling the hard, frantic pounding of his heart against her cheek.
Dominic wrapped his arms around her and their unborn child, his coat soaked in his mother’s blood, his eyes staring at the shattered remains of his home.
The siege was over.
The Russians were dead.
Julian Cross had played his final card—and in doing so, he had doomed himself to an eternity of darkness.
Dominic kissed Sophia’s hair, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on her arms stand up.
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“Julian Cross dies tonight,” Dominic whispered. “And this time, Sophia… not even God can stop me.”
***