Chapter 13 - The Chairman Falls
The room fell into an icy, suffocating silence. Sterling stood frozen, the gold-headed cane slipping from his grasp and clattering against the marble floor. His face had turned the color of ash.
"You... you bought them?" Sterling stammered, looking at his own men with unadulterated horror. "I hired you! I made you!"
"You made them mercenaries," Dominic answered, stepping forward until the barrel of his gun was resting against Sterling’s temple. "And mercenaries follow the highest bidder. Always."
Elena slumped against a reinforced desk, her strength finally giving out. Dominic gestured with his chin to the lead guard. "Call the private medical transport team on channel four. Get her out of this building, into the clinic on 8th Street, and put two men at the door. If she dies, the money vanishes from your accounts. Do you understand?"
"Understood, sir," the guard replied cleanly, lowering his weapon and signaling his men to lift Elena gently onto a transport gurney from the security station.
As they wheeled her past Dominic, she reached out with her trembling, pale hand, catching his sleeve once more. Her eyes were clear now, filled with a mixture of profound relief and haunting sorrow.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Dominic didn't look at her; his eyes remained fixed on Sterling. "Your debt is cleared, Elena. Live your life."
The guards wheeled her out through the security corridor, the heavy doors sealing behind them. Now, only Dominic and the trembling Chairman remained in the cold, silent vault.
Sterling fell to his knees, his hands clasped together in desperate supplication. "Dominic... please. We built this city together. We can split the territory. Vance's men are dead! The council will listen to me! I can make you the Chairman!"
Dominic looked down at the pathetic figure before him. The refined gentleman who had ordered Dean's murder, burned the docks, and cut open his own daughter was nothing more than a coward stripped of his paid muscle.
"You didn't build this city, Thomas," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than any blade. "You just fed on it like a parasite."
Dominic pulled the trigger.
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The suppressed gunshot was no louder than the snapping of a dry twig. Sterling collapsed forward onto the polished floor, his blood spreading slowly toward the drainage grates.
Dominic tucked his weapon inside his coat, picked up the titanium cylinder, and walked out of the vault without looking back.
