Chapter 1 - The Contract Signed in Fire
Dominic Vale reached out with a gloved hand and gently touched the darkened skin across the child’s small knuckles.
“How did you get this, Sophie?” his voice softened, though every muscle in his broad shoulders remained coiled like a steel spring.
Sophie looked down at her hands, pulling her sleeves over her fingers. “When they pulled Mom out the door, she was screaming. I ran out of the closet to grab her leg. The man with the gold teeth... he kicked the apartment door shut. My hand was in the frame.”
Behind Dominic, Tony Russo let out a breath through his teeth that sounded like a dying kettle. The two guards standing by the idling sedan didn't move, but their eyes shifted to Dominic, waiting for the order that would burn Westbridge Avenue to the ground.
Dominic slowly folded the crumpled five-dollar bill. He pressed it flat against his thigh, creasing it neatly into a small square, and placed it inside the inner pocket of his bespoke wool coat—right beside his custom silver-plated pistol.
“Your contract is accepted, Miss Morales,” Dominic said, his gray eyes locking onto hers with absolute, terrifying solemnity. “I am working for you now. Which means nobody touches you, nobody threatens you, and your mother comes home tonight.”
He stood up to his full six-foot-two frame. The sudden shift in his posture seemed to cast a shadow over the entire sidewalk.
“Tony,” Dominic said, his tone devoid of any emotion.
“Yeah, Boss?”
“Take Sophie to the penthouse. Have Martha make her hot food. Real food, not crackers. Get a doctor up there to look at her hand, and put four men on the door. If anyone I didn't authorize breathes near that floor, shoot them.”
Sophie shrank back slightly, clutching the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. “Are you coming with me?”
Dominic looked down at her, his expression softening just enough for her to see the promise in his eyes. “I have a job to do first, employer. I have to go collect what your five dollars bought.”
He turned to Tony. “Call Marcus. Tell him I want every soldier in the Westbridge, Southside, and Riverfront districts on the street in fifteen minutes. Block the bridges. Close the alleys. Nobody leaves the district in a white van.”
“Boss,” Tony hesitated, leaning in close so the girl couldn't hear. “The Keller brothers are backed by the Rossi family out of Brooklyn. If we hit them directly without a sit-down, it’s a full-scale syndicate war. The Commission will—”
Dominic turned his head slowly, looking at Tony with eyes so cold the veteran enforcer instinctively stepped back.
“I don't give a damn about the Commission,” Dominic whispered, his voice cutting through the damp night air like a blade. “A child paid me five dollars to save her mother. If the Rossi family wants to stand between me and my contract, I’ll bury them in the same hole as the Kellers. Get her to the car.”
Tony swallowed hard, nodding rapidly. “Right away, Boss.”
As Tony led Sophie toward the rear door of the armored sedan, Dominic walked across the rain-slicked street toward the corner convenience store. The bell above the door chimed softly as he pushed it open.
Mrs. Kim stood behind the counter, her hands still trembling against her apron.
Dominic stopped across from her, resting his hands on the glass counter. “You sent her to me, Mrs. Kim.”
The elderly woman didn't look down. She wiped a tear from her weathered cheek. “She had nowhere else to go, Mr. Vale. The police took two hours just to answer the report on Sunday. They said it was a domestic dispute over old debts. They weren't going to look for Clara.”
“Clara Morales?” Dominic asked, memorizing the name.
“Yes. She works two jobs, Mr. Vale. She cleans offices in the morning and works the bakery on 4th Street at night. She’s a good woman. She never owed anyone a dime.” Mrs. Kim looked into Dominic’s eyes, her voice shaking with quiet desperation. “Did I do wrong, Mr. Vale? Did I put the child in danger?”
“No,” Dominic said, pulling a heavy black leather wallet from his coat. He placed a stack of hundred-dollar bills on the glass counter. “You did the right thing. Take this. Keep the store closed for the next twenty-four hours. Tell the neighbors to stay inside, lock their doors, and keep their windows shut.”
Mrs. Kim stared at the money, then at Dominic’s dark, unreadable face. “Is there going to be trouble?”
Dominic adjusted his cuffs, his gold cufflinks catching the fluorescent light of the store.
“No, Mrs. Kim,” Dominic said quietly. “There’s going to be justice.”
He turned and walked out into the cold night air. Within three minutes, four dark SUVs tore around the corner, their tires screaming against the wet pavement as they pulled up along the curb. Twenty men in dark suits stepped out, their faces hard, their hands tucked inside their coats.
Marcus, Dominic’s chief enforcer—a man built like an iron beam with a jagged scar running across his throat—stepped forward.
“We found the van, Boss,” Marcus reported, his voice low and gravelly. “Abandoned near the old meatpacking plant on Westbridge Dock Road. The plates were stolen.”
“And the Kellers?” Dominic asked, lighting a cigarette, the small flame illuminating his razor-sharp jawline.
“Caleb Keller was seen an hour ago at The Red Lion,” Marcus replied. “He’s drinking with six of his guys. Acting like he owns the block.”
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Dominic took a slow drag from his cigarette, blowing the gray smoke out into the cold November mist.
“Let’s go teach Mr. Keller what happens when you mess with my staff,” Dominic said.
