Chapter 14 - THE TRAP AT THE BOUTIQUE
The North Side boutique was quiet, bathed in the soft golden glow of afternoon lamps.
I was sorting through children's winter coats on the display rack while Maisie excitedly held up a pink wool jacket with matching mittens.
“Look, Mommy! It has bunny ears!” she beamed, spinning around in front of the mirror.
“It's beautiful, sweetie,” I smiled, kneeling down to adjust the hood.
Standing near the front glass doors were two of Dominic's elite bodyguards, scanning the street with quiet vigilance.
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
Suddenly, the front glass windows didn't shatter—they simply dissolved as a heavy commercial truck plowed directly through the front facade of the boutique.
Wood splinters, glass shards, and screeching metal filled the air in an ear-splitting roar.
I screamed, throwing myself over Maisie as shelving units collapsed all around us.
Through the dust and smoke, heavy black combat boots hit the floor.
Men in tactical gear poured through the wreckage.
Dominic's bodyguards drew their weapons, but before they could fire, silenced automatic gunfire echoed through the boutique.
Both guards dropped instantly.
I scrambled backward, pulling Maisie behind the heavy oak checkout counter.
“Mommy, I'm scared!” Maisie sobbed, burying her face in my apron.
“Hush, baby, stay right here,” I whispered, my hands shaking as I searched my coat pocket for the small emergency radio Dominic had insisted I carry.
Footsteps crunched heavily over the broken glass, stopping just a few feet from our hiding spot.
A tall man in an expensive grey trench coat stepped around the counter.
He had salt-and-pepper hair, cold grey eyes, and a terrifying, familiar smile that mirrored Vanessa's.
Arthur Vance.
“Well, well, well,” Arthur sneered, looking down at us like we were insects.
“The little housemaid who thought she could steal a Moretti empire.”
I stood up slowly, stepping in front of Maisie to shield her with my own body.
“Leave her alone,” I spat, my voice shaking with fury.
“She's just a child.”
“She's leverage,” Arthur corrected smoothly, pulling a silver-plated pistol from his coat.
“Dominic Moretti thinks he won. He locked away my niece and humiliated my family. Now, I'm going to take everything he loves—starting with his new little family.”
He raised the pistol, aiming straight at my chest.
I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around Maisie one last time.
Forgive me, Dominic, I thought.
Bang.
A deafening roar shook the ruined boutique.
I braced for the impact.
Pain didn't come.
Instead, a heavy, familiar weight slammed into Arthur Vance from the side, tackling him through the broken display window into the street outside.
I opened my eyes.
Dominic Moretti stood over Arthur Vance on the sidewalk, his fists wrapped around the older man's collar, raining down brutal, calculated blows with relentless fury.
Sirens wailed in the distance, closing in fast from all directions.
Marcus and half a dozen guards swarmed the street, securing the perimeter and neutralizing the remaining hitmen.
Dominic grabbed Arthur by the throat, hoisting him off the ground with one hand.
“You stepped foot in my city,” Dominic snarled, his face twisted in a mask of pure, lethal rage.
“And you touched what is mine.”
Arthur coughed up blood, wheezing a weak, bloody laugh.
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“You... you can't kill us all, Moretti... the syndicate... will never stop...”
“Try me,” Dominic whispered, before delivering one final, crushing blow that knocked Arthur out cold.
