Chapter 2 - Blood On The Concrete
Dominic reacted instantly. Drawing his silenced semi-automatic, he stepped over Elena's body, shielding her form with his broad frame while keeping his eye trained down the dimly lit spiral.
""Dominic Vance,"" a rasping voice echoed from two landings below. ""You shouldn't have opened that door.""
The footsteps abruptly accelerated. Dominic raised his weapon and fired two rapid rounds into the central stair column, sending concrete fragments raining downward. A guttural curse echoed from below, followed by the clatter of boots retreating down toward the subterranean garage. Whoever had hunted Elena had not anticipated finding the city's most feared syndicate boss guarding the landing.
Dominic didn't give chase. Survival dictated priorities. He holstered his weapon, knelt back beside Elena, and pressed his fingers firmly against the laceration on her temple. Her skin was ice-cold, clammy with impending shock.
Above on the landing, a quiet sob escaped the toddler. Dominic glanced up; the little girl was peeking over the railing, her eyes wide with terror as she took in her mother's limp form.
""She’s alive, sweetheart,"" Dominic said, forcing an unfamiliar calmness into his voice. ""I've got her.""
Reaching into his pocket, he dialed his private physician, Marcus Thorne. ""Penthouse stairwell. Full trauma kit, blood transfusions, emergency surgical gear. Ten minutes, Marcus. Not eleven.""
He hung up without waiting for an answer. Gathering Elena into his arms, he carried her up into the penthouse corridor, gesturing for the girl to follow closely.
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As he crossed back into his living room, laying Elena onto the long leather sofa, a piece of folded cardstock slipped from her coat pocket onto the rug. Dominic picked it up with bloodied fingers. It was a birth certificate.
In the space marked 'Father,' written in faded blue ink, was his own name.
