Chapter 11 - two seconds of balance
Fay gasped.
Carmine took a sharp step forward, his hands reaching out instinctively.
Dominic Corso was standing on his own two feet.
His legs shook violently beneath his weight, trembling like dry branches in a gale. The corded muscles in his thighs locked and fought, his face twisting in an agonizing grimace as sweat instantly burst across his forehead. But his feet were planted flat against the hardwood floor.
For two full seconds, the crippled boss of the Corso family stood erect, towering over his desk.
Then, his knees buckled.
Fay lunged forward and caught him by the waist, bracing her shoulder beneath his chest before he could crash to the floor. Dominic collapsed heavily back into the leather wheelchair, his breath coming in ragged, violent gasps, his entire body drenched in cold perspiration.
"Dominic!" Carmine barked, his voice filled with raw emotion. "Your spine—"
"It wasn't severed," Dominic panted, his chest heaving as his fingers dug into the armrests. He looked up at Fay, his dark eyes ablaze with triumphant, furious light. "She was right. The nerves are firing. The block is wearing off."
Fay stayed beside him, her hands resting on his trembling shoulder to steady his breathing. "You shouldn't have done that. The Diazepam is still in your bloodstream. You could tear a tendon."
Dominic grabbed her hand. His grip was scorching hot, his gaze piercing directly into hers.
"You saved my life twice in twenty-four hours, Fay," he whispered, completely ignoring Mrs. Gable and Carmine. "Nobody in this city has ever done that."
Fay met his intense stare, her hazel eyes steady despite the chaos around them. "Just pay my rent, Mr. Corso."
A rare, genuine laugh broke from Dominic’s chest—dark, sharp, and full of life.
He released her hand and turned his gaze back to Mrs. Gable, who was still weeping silently in the doorway. The warmth in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by the calculating predator that had ruled the city's underworld.
"Carmine," Dominic commanded.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Put two of our most trusted men on a private jet to Boston within the hour. Bring Margaret's grandson and daughter to our safe house in New Hampshire under full guard."
Mrs. Gable looked up, her eyes wide with shock. "Dominic... you're protecting them?"
"You've served this family for twenty-five years, Margaret," Dominic said coldly. "You should have come to me the second they threatened blood. But you didn't sell me out for greed. You did it for family. I can forgive fear once. I do not forgive betrayal."
Mrs. Gable sank against the doorframe, sobbing in relief. "Thank you... God bless you, Dominic."
"Take her to the west wing," Dominic ordered Carmine. "She remains under house arrest until this is over. No phones. No internet."
Carmine nodded and escorted the crying housekeeper down the hall.
The heavy library doors clicked shut once more, leaving Dominic and Fay alone in the flickering firelight.
Dominic wheeled himself toward the wall safe hidden behind an oil painting of the Maine coastline. He tapped in the six-digit code and pulled out a heavy black satellite phone.
"Tomorrow night, Sal Moretti and Luca will be at the south docks warehouse," Dominic said, looking back at Fay. "Moretti has the cash he stole from my accounts. Luca has the information on who ordered my hit."
"What are you going to do?" Fay asked.
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"I'm going to take back my city," Dominic said. He dialed a number on the satellite phone. After two rings, a gruff, dangerous voice answered on the other end.
"Frankie," Dominic spoke into the receiver, his voice ice-cold. "Mobilize the iron squad. Dominic Corso is coming to the docks."
