Chapter 7 - The Blood Hunt
The heavy iron door of the abandoned brick warehouse in Red Hook slammed shut, locking out the sound of the rain pouring over the harbor.
Penelope was tied securely to a wooden chair in the center of a vast, dusty floor. Her crimson dress was torn at the hem, but her head was held high, her eyes burning with fierce defiance.
Victoria Sterling paced in front of her, taking a sip from a silver flask. Standing around the perimeter were six heavily armed mercenaries dressed in unmarked tactical gear—guns bought with Sterling family funds.
“You really thought you belonged in our world, didn't you?” Victoria sneered, stopping in front of Penelope and tapping the barrel of her gun against Penelope’s cheekbone. “A nobody from Ohio, living in a Tribeca penthouse, sleeping with Dominic Costa. You were a distraction. A fat, low-class distraction that ruined my family’s banking merger.”
Penelope spat on the dusty floor near Victoria’s designer boots.
“Dominic didn't reject you because of me, Victoria,” Penelope said, her voice dripping with ice. “He rejected you because you are empty. You have no talent, no heart, and no real power. You’re just a spoiled girl living on daddy’s money.”
Victoria’s face twisted in rage. She raised her hand and struck Penelope across the face with the back of her ringed hand.
Penelope’s head snapped sideways. The iron taste of blood filled her mouth, but she didn't cry out. She looked right back at Victoria and laughed softly.
“Hit me all you want,” Penelope whispered. “Because when Dominic finds this room—and he will—there won't be enough left of you to put in a coffin.”
Victoria’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of fear, but she quickly covered it with a smirk. “Dominic won't find this place. This warehouse belongs to an untraceable shell company. And in twenty minutes, a boat will take you ten miles out into the Atlantic. By morning, you’ll be fish food.”
Five miles away, at the Costa Syndicate’s private command center beneath the Costa Tower, the atmosphere was lethal.
Dominic stood before a wall of digital monitors displaying live satellite tracking, city traffic cameras, and wiretap feeds. His dinner jacket was gone, his shoulder holster visible over his black dress shirt. Frank and thirty fully armed syndicate operatives stood at full attention, waiting for their leader’s command.
“We tracked the SUV’s license plate, Boss,” Frank said, tapping a touchscreen. “It was registered to a dummy corporation owned by Sterling Financial. It crossed the Manhattan Bridge twelve minutes ago and headed toward the Red Hook industrial docks.”
Dominic’s face was devoid of all emotion. His dark eyes were cold, hollow, and utterly terrifying.
“Call the team,” Dominic said quietly.
“Sir?” Frank asked.
“Call everyone,” Dominic corrected, his low voice shaking the room. “Every captain, every soldier, every contact we have from the Bronx to Staten Island. Blockade every harbor exit. Shut down every bridge leaving Brooklyn.”
“And Senator Sterling?” Frank asked.
Dominic picked up a heavy tactical rifle from the table and loaded a magazine with a crisp, brutal clack.
“Execute financial wipeouts on all Sterling accounts immediately,” Dominic commanded. “Destroy their family name before midnight. And as for Victoria...”
Dominic looked up, his dark eyes burning with the fires of hell.
“Leave her to me.”
Back at the warehouse, the storm raged outside.
Victoria checked her diamond watch. “The boat is late. Call the captain,” she ordered one of her mercenaries.
Before the mercenary could reach for his radio, a sudden, massive explosion rocked the warehouse.
BOOM!
The main steel loading doors flew inward with devastating force, crushing two mercenaries under hundreds of pounds of twisted metal.
The lights inside the warehouse shattered instantly. Smoke, dust, and rain poured into the opening as heavy tactical strobes cut through the darkness.
Panicked gunfire erupted from Victoria’s remaining men.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Muzzle flashes illuminated the dust as dark figures poured through the breach with absolute, military precision. Dominic’s strike team moved like wraiths, dropping Victoria’s mercenaries one by one with lethal, suppressed gunshots.
Within ninety seconds, every mercenary was dead on the concrete floor.
Silence fell over the warehouse, broken only by the sound of falling rain and Victoria’s terrified, ragged breathing.
From the thick curtain of smoke stepped Dominic Costa.
He carried no rifle now—only his bare hands and the deadly aura of a apex predator. His suit was dark with rain, his dark hair soaked, his face a terrifying portrait of absolute vengeance.
Victoria stumbled back, dropping her handgun to the floor, her hands shaking violently. “D-Dominic... please... it was a mistake! My father—”
Dominic didn't even acknowledge her. He walked right past her as if she were dust, his eyes locked exclusively on Penelope.
He reached Penelope’s chair, instantly pulling a tactical combat knife from his belt and slicing through the thick ropes securing her wrists and ankles.
The moment she was free, Penelope collapsed forward into his arms.
Dominic caught her tightly against his chest, his big hands trembling as he cradled the back of her head, pressing his face into her hair.
“I have you,” Dominic whispered, his voice cracking with rare, raw emotion. “I’m here, Penelope. I’m here.”
Penelope held onto him with all her remaining strength, burying her face into his wet collar. “I knew you’d come.”
Dominic stood up slowly, keeping one protective arm wrapped around Penelope’s waist. He turned to face Victoria, who was cowering against a wooden crate, weeping hysterically.
Frank stepped up beside Dominic, holding a dark leather folder.
“Senator Sterling has been arrested by federal agents for tax evasion and treason, sir,” Frank reported calmly. “Their assets have been frozen. The Sterling family is ruined.”
Dominic looked down at Victoria with utter coldness.
“Your father is going to prison for the rest of his life, Victoria,” Dominic said softly. “And you are going to spend the rest of yours in a dark cell in upstate New York, where no one will ever hear your name again.”
Frank signaled to two syndicate soldiers, who stepped forward and dragged the screaming, sobbing Victoria out into the rain.
May you like
Dominic turned back to Penelope, gently lifting her face to wipe away a smear of blood near her lip with his thumb. His touch was as gentle as silk.
“Let’s go home, Penelope,” Dominic said softly. “You have an empire to build.”
