43. Dominic
Chapter 43
Dominic
Another body drops as my bullet finds its mark. The warehouse echoes with gunfire and shouting, the air thick with cordite and desperation. These fuckers aren't giving up easy.
"This is better than the range," Isaac calls out from behind a stack of crates, his accent thicker with adrenaline. "Moving targets and everything."
I duck as return fire peppers the wall above me. "Keep those shots tight. We're burning through ammo faster than I planned."
"Aye, they're putting up quite the fight for a bunch of second-rate thugs." Isaac pops up, squeezes off two rounds. Two thuds follow. "Though their aim's shite."
"Money makes people stupid brave." I advance, stepping over a body, my boots leaving red prints on the concrete. "Connor, how's your count?"
"Four down on my end," Connor reports from somewhere to my left. "But I got eyes on at least six more."
A burst of gunfire forces me back behind a support beam. The steel vibrates as bullets strike the other side. "These assholes must be desperate for whatever Thomas owes them."
"Speaking of that prick," Isaac says between shots, "you'll have to stop me from putting a hole in him when we're done here."
"Get in line." I lean out, spot movement, squeeze the trigger. Another body hits the floor. "But first we need to find Tatum."
"Dom, your nine o'clock!"
I spin, catch a glimpse of a gun barrel. My reaction is pure instinct – two center mass shots before the guy can even level his weapon.
"Thanks for the heads up." I check my magazine. "Getting low here. Let's push harder before we're shooting spitballs."
The stench of rust and mildew grows stronger as we approach the boiler room. Blood pounds in my ears, mixing with the distant hum of machinery. We've cleared every other inch of this warehouse, and my gut says this is it.
Connor signals from my right, holding up three fingers. Through the grimy window, shadows move behind the frosted glass.
"Two entry points," I whisper, gesturing to the main door and the maintenance access. "Isaac, take the side. Connor, you're with me."
"What if she's in the line of fire?" Connor's voice is barely audible over the mechanical drone.
"Then we don't miss." I check my magazine one last time. "These fuckers made their choice when they took her."
Isaac melts away toward the side entrance, his footsteps silent despite the debris-strewn floor. Connor and I position ourselves on either side of the main door.
"On my mark." I grip the handle, feeling the cool metal against my palm. "Three. Two-"
A scream pierces the air – Tatum's voice. My blood turns to ice.
"Fuck the count." I kick the door open, rolling to the right as gunfire erupts.
Connor's already moving, his shots precise as he takes down the first guard. The boiler room's a maze of pipes and shadows, steam hissing from somewhere overhead.
"Drop your weapons!" A voice calls out. "Or the senator's wife gets it!"
Through the steam, I spot Tatum tied to a chair. Blood trickles from her split lip, her eye swollen shut. Her shirt is torn, revealing bruises blooming across her collarbone. Something inside me snaps.
"You know what's funny?" I keep my voice deliberately calm, letting it carry across the room. "We came here planning to negotiate. Maybe even let you idiots walk away."
A nervous shuffle from behind the pipes. These fools don't know what real danger sounds like.
"But see, now you've gone and fucked up." I step forward, steam curling around my boots. "You put your hands on her."
"Stay back!" The voice cracks. "We'll-"
"You'll what?" Connor's cold laugh echoes from somewhere to my left. "Kill her? Then you've got nothing. And we've got no reason to leave any of you breathing."
Isaac's voice joins in from behind them. "And trust me, boys, you don't want that. Because now we're gonna take our time."
"Last chance," I announce, scanning the shadows. "Drop your weapons, step out where we can see you, and maybe – just maybe – we'll make it quick."
Tatum's good eye meets mine. Despite everything, there's fire there, not fear. My chest tightens.
"These fuckers aren't worth negotiating with," she calls out, voice hoarse but strong.
"You fucked with the wrong crew." My voice comes out as a growl.
The leader yanks Tatum's head back by her hair. "One more step and-"
I don't let him finish. My bullet catches him in the throat, spraying arterial blood across the pipes behind him. Connor and Isaac move in perfect sync, taking out the remaining two before they can even raise their weapons.
"Clear!" Isaac calls out, but I'm already rushing to Tatum.
"Those motherfuckers." Connor's voice shakes with rage as he covers us, his knuckles white around his gun grip.
I cup Tatum's face, careful of her injuries. Her good eye focuses on me, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her cheeks. "Hey princess, we got you."
"Took you long enough." She attempts a smile, wincing as it pulls at her split lip.
"Sorry about that." I work on the ropes binding her wrists. The skin underneath is raw and bloody. "Had to deal with your piece of shit husband first."
Isaac appears with a knife, helping cut through the bonds. "Should've killed these bastards slower."
"You good baby?" Connor asks, his eyes dark with concern as he checks her pulse.
"Better than these assholes." Tatum's voice is hoarse, but there's steel underneath. She tries to stand but her legs buckle.
I catch her before she hits the ground, lifting her into my arms. She feels too light, too fragile. "Let's get you home."
"The others?" Isaac asks, already moving to secure our exit.
"Leave them for the cleanup crew." I adjust my grip on Tatum as she nestles against my chest. "We've got more important things to handle."
I carry Tatum through the warehouse, past the bodies of the men who dared touch her. Her head rests against my chest, her breathing shallow but steady. Isaac takes point while Connor covers our six, both of them scanning for any stragglers we might have missed.
The night air hits us as we exit, carrying the scent of rain and gunpowder. Our SUV sits where we left it, engine still running. I slide into the back with Tatum while Connor climbs in beside us. Isaac takes the wheel.
"Fuck, Tatum." Connor's voice cracks as he helps me position her across our laps. "When we couldn't find you at the house..." He trails off, running his fingers through her tangled hair.
"Thought I was going crazy when I saw the place trashed." I check her pulse again, needing the reassurance of its steady beat. "Haven't been that scared since my first firefight."
"Should've seen Dom," Isaac calls from the front seat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "Never seen him so focused. Like a fucking demon possessed him or something."
Tatum lets out a weak laugh that turns into a wince. "My heroes."
"Don't talk, baby." Connor's hand trembles as he wipes blood from her chin with his sleeve. "We got you now. Nobody's gonna touch you again."
"Promise?" Her voice is small, vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Cross my heart." I squeeze her hand gently. "Anyone tries, they'll end up like those fuckers back there."
"All of them," Isaac adds firmly. "Every last one."
The city lights blur past as we speed toward home, toward safety. Tatum's breathing evens out as she drifts between consciousness and sleep, still holding tight to my hand.