Chapter 4 - The Traitor’s PriceThe air at the docks was thick with the smell of salt and rotting fish.
I was tucked away in the back of a van,
surrounded by Dominic’s most trusted soldiers,
all of them checked and double-checked their weapons.
Dominic sat next to me,
a heavy pistol tucked into his waistband,
his eyes focused on the warehouse across the pier.
"Stay low, and do not move until I tell you,"
he commanded,
his voice a low vibration in the small space.
I nodded,
my hands gripped tightly together,
knowing that my father was inside that building.
The signal was given,
a low whistle that blended with the wind,
and suddenly, the night erupted into chaos.
Gunfire shattered the silence,
the flashes of light illuminating the shipping containers like a nightmare.
Dominic moved with the grace of a panther,
leading his men into the fray without a hint of hesitation.
I watched through the small window,
my heart in my throat,
as the two most powerful families in New York tore each other apart.
After what felt like an eternity,
the shooting slowed to a rhythmic thud.
Leo opened the van door and gestured for me to follow.
Inside the warehouse,
the air was thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood.
Dominic was standing in the center of the room,
looking down at a man groveling on the floor.
It was him.
My father looked pathetic,
his clothes tattered and his face bruised,
clinging to a briefcase as if it could save his soul.
"Elara?"
he gasped,
looking up at me with eyes full of false hope.
"Tell them, tell them to let me go!"
I looked at him,
this stranger who had shared my blood,
and felt nothing but a cold, empty void.
"You left me,"
I said,
my voice steady for the first time in years.
"You left me to die for your mistakes."
"I did it for us!"
he lied,
his voice cracking with desperation.
Dominic stepped forward,
placing a heavy boot on my father’s chest,
pressing him down into the dirt.
"He was going to sell the shipment details to the highest bidder,"
Dominic informed me,
his eyes never leaving my father.
"He wasn't just a gambler; he was a rat."
Dominic pulled his gun and looked at me,
offering me the weapon.
"Finish it,"
he said.
"The debt is paid when the debtor is gone."
The room went silent,
every man there watching to see if the waitress had the stomach for the family business.
I looked at the gun,
then at my father,
and finally at Dominic.
I took the gun,
its weight heavy and cold in my palm.
I aimed it at the man who had ruined my life,
my finger tightening on the trigger.
Then,
I lowered the weapon and handed it back to Dominic.
"I am not like him,"
I said firmly.
"And I am not like you."
Dominic stared at me for a long beat,
a flicker of something that looked like respect crossing his face.
"No,"
he said,
"you're better."
He turned to Leo and gave a small nod.
"Take him away,"
Dominic ordered.
"He won't be bothering anyone ever again."
As they dragged my father into the darkness,
Dominic took my hand,
his grip firm and protective.
"The Castellanos are finished,"
May you like
he said.
"And you, Elara, are free."
