Chapter 6 - His Guards Had Never Seen Him This Soft
The bullet entered Dominic’s left side beneath his ribs.
It missed his kidney by less than an inch.
The second bullet grazed his shoulder.
By the time I reached the hospital, he was already in surgery.
I had spent years standing beside families while surgeons operated on people they loved.
I knew every phrase.
Stable.
Critical.
Significant blood loss.
We’re doing everything we can.
I had said those things.
I had believed them.
None helped when I was sitting in the waiting room.
Elena prayed.
Gabriel stood near the wall with blood on his shirt.
One of Dominic’s guards kept staring at the floor.
“Who shot him?”
Gabriel looked at me.
“Marcus.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Arrested?”
“Yes.”
Good.
I wanted him alive.
I wanted courts.
Evidence.
Consequence.
I did not want Dominic waking to another corpse attached to his name.
Surgery lasted four hours.
The surgeon finally entered.
“He’s going to be okay.”
My knees almost failed.
Three days later, Dominic woke enough to complain about the hospital food.
That was how I knew he would survive.
“I donate to this place.”
“It’s not a restaurant.”
“Soup shouldn’t have that texture.”
“You were shot.”
“Exactly. I deserve competent soup.”
I kissed him.
“Shut up.”
“Yes, nurse.”
Recovery changed him.
Being physically helpless made Dominic irritable.
He hated asking for help.
Hated sleeping.
Hated pain medication because it made him feel slow.
I caught him trying to stand alone on day four.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking.”
“You are falling while vertical.”
“I had it.”
“You had the bed rail.”
He glared.
I glared back.
Gabriel walked out.
Coward.
Dominic recovered at home.
For six weeks, the house became quieter.
Marcus remained in federal custody.
The old Kessler network fractured.
Several captains cooperated.
Others disappeared.
Dominic sold or closed every remaining business with illegal operations.
It cost him millions.
Possibly hundreds of millions.
He did it anyway.
Three months after the shooting, we attended the opening of Saint Catherine’s new pediatric family center.
Dominic walked with a slight stiffness.
Only I noticed.
Owen attended.
Now nine.
He ran toward Dominic.
“You got shot!”
His mother looked horrified.
“Owen!”
“What? Everybody knows.”
Dominic crouched carefully.
“I’ve had better months.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Did you cry?”
Dominic glanced at me.
“Apparently we’re asking personal questions.”
Owen waited.
Dominic sighed.
“Yes.”
The boy nodded.
“Good.”
Dominic blinked.
“Good?”
“My mom says crying is normal.”
I nearly laughed.
Dominic looked at Mrs. Carter.
She shrugged.
After the ceremony, we drove back to Manhattan.
Rain covered the windows.
Five vehicles moved in convoy.
Gabriel sat in the front passenger seat.
Another guard drove.
Dominic sat beside me in the rear.
For twenty minutes, he said nothing.
I noticed his hand pressing his side.
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“A little.”
“Medication?”
“Later.”
I studied him.
The ceremony had been emotional.
Anna’s photograph hung in the new family center.
A plaque beneath it read:
FOR EVERY CHILD WHO NEEDS SOMEONE TO STAY.
Dominic had stood in front of it longer than anyone else.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Dominic.”
He looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
The kind of tired that comes after surviving too many versions of yourself.
Then he did something strange.
He shifted closer.
Turned.
And slowly lowered his head onto my lap.
I froze.
Gabriel looked into the rearview mirror.
His eyes widened.
The driver glanced once.
Then immediately looked straight ahead.
I ran my fingers through Dominic’s hair.
“What are you doing?”
“Resting.”
“In a moving car?”
“Yes.”
“Your guards look traumatized.”
Gabriel cleared his throat.
“I see nothing.”
I laughed.
Dominic’s eyes remained closed.
His hand rested lightly against my knee.
He looked younger like this.
Not harmless.
Never that.
But unguarded.
I continued stroking his hair.
The convoy moved through wet Manhattan streets.
After several minutes, Dominic whispered, “I thought I was going to die.”
My hand stopped.
He opened his eyes.
“In that room.”
“Don’t.”
“I need to say it.”
I swallowed.
“All right.”
“When Marcus shot me, I fell.”
I remembered hearing it through the wire.
Gunfire.
Shouting.
Gabriel saying Dominic was hit.
“I couldn’t breathe.”
His voice remained low.
“All I could think about was you sitting in that van.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I thought you’d wait for someone to tell you whether your husband was alive.”
“That’s exactly what I did.”
“I know.”
His hand tightened.
“And I hated myself for giving you that.”
“You didn’t shoot yourself.”
“I chose the meeting.”
“Yes.”
“You told me to finish it.”
“I did.”
“I still brought danger home.”
I looked down at him.
“You don’t get to take responsibility for every violent thing another person chooses.”
He gave me a tired smile.
“That sounds familiar.”
“I’m very wise.”
“You are.”
Gabriel stared determinedly through the windshield.
Dominic closed his eyes again.
“I don’t know what I am without all of it.”
“The crime?”
“The family structure.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Good?”
“Maybe you get to find out.”
Silence.
Then:
“What if you don’t like what’s left?”
My chest hurt.
This was the question beneath everything.
Not whether I could love Dominic Kessler the mafia boss.
Whether Dominic Kessler believed he was lovable without power.
I touched his face.
“I didn’t fall in love with your armed convoy.”
The driver coughed.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
I smiled.
“I fell in love with the man who sat in a plastic chair for three hours because an eight-year-old might wake up scared.”
Dominic opened his eyes.
“That man is still here.”
“Yes.”
“Even if everything else disappears?”
“Yes.”
He turned his face against my stomach.
For the next thirty minutes, the most feared man any of his guards had ever served slept with his head in his wife’s lap.
No one spoke.
No one joked.
Years later, Gabriel told me it was the moment he realized Dominic had actually escaped his father.
Not because the crime empire was collapsing.
Because Dominic finally trusted someone enough to look weak.
We reached home shortly after six.
Dominic woke when the car stopped.
He sat up.
Adjusted his jacket.
The transformation was almost comical.
The guards stepped out.
Dominic looked toward Gabriel.
“We will never discuss this.”
Gabriel nodded solemnly.
“Of course, sir.”
The driver added, “Absolutely.”
I smiled.
Dominic narrowed his eyes at me.
“You too.”
“I’m your wife. I signed nothing.”
He kissed me.
That night should have been peaceful.
Instead, at 2:03 a.m., our security alarms activated.
Dominic woke instantly.
A guard’s voice came through the bedroom intercom.
“Boss, we have a breach.”
Dominic reached for the gun locked beside the bed.
I sat up.
“How?”
“No idea.”
The voice continued.
“East gate. Two vehicles.”
Dominic dressed.
“Stay here.”
I stared.
He stopped.
Corrected himself.
“Would you stay here?”
“Better.”
Then an explosion shook the house.
The bedroom windows trembled.
Smoke rose beyond the trees.
Dominic grabbed my hand.
“We’re leaving.”
This time I didn’t argue.
May you like
Because the second explosion came from inside the house.
Someone on our security team had betrayed us.
