My Maid’s Seven-Year-Old Daughter Said the Mafia Boss Was Drugged—Then I Locked the Doors and Realized the Traitor Was Still in the Room.

The rain beat relentlessly against the wooden deck of the pier as Dominic rose like a shadow behind Cassian's three armed guards.

Moving with terrifying, silent efficiency, Dominic grabbed the nearest guard from behind, snapping his neck before the man could draw his weapon, and tossed his body quietly into the churning sea below.

The second guard turned around, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the towering mafia boss standing in the rain, soaked, covered in soot, and radiating lethal fury. Before the man could raise his weapon, Dominic closed the distance, delivering a devastating punch to the guard's temple that knocked him unconscious instantly.

The third guard fired a wild burst from his submachine gun, but the rounds whined harmlessly off the wooden crane. Dominic grabbed the barrel of the gun, yanked the man forward, and drove his knee into the guard's chest, throwing him over the railing into the cold Atlantic.

Cassian spun around, dropping his umbrella and satellite phone, his face draining of all color as he stared at the man he thought was buried beneath forty feet of seawater.

"Dominic..." Cassian stammered, his voice trembling violently as he reached into his trench coat for his sidearm.

Dominic walked toward him slowly, his heavy leather shoes squelching against the wet timber. "You sold my family to Chicago, Cassian."

"They paid fifty million, Dominic!" Cassian shrieked, pulling his pistol and aiming it at Dominic's chest. "You were soft! You spent years hiding in this gray house instead of taking the eastern territory! I deserved that seat!"

Dominic didn't flinch. He didn't even slow his pace. "You missed the cup, Cassian. And you missed the child."

Cassian pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

The weapon misfired—the salt spray from the ocean storm clogging the firing pin.

Before Cassian could rack the slide, Dominic reached out his broad hand, his fingers clamping around Cassian's throat like an iron clamp. He lifted the traitorous lieutenant two feet off the wooden deck, pinning him against the heavy iron mooring cleat at the edge of the pier.

Cassian choked, his legs kicking uselessly over the dark water below, his eyes bulging with sheer, naked terror.

"Where are the rest of your men?" Dominic growled softly, his face inches from Cassian's.

"In... in the main house..." Cassian rasped out, tears mixing with the rain on his face. "The Chicago representatives... they're in your study... signing the deeds..."

Dominic’s jaw set like iron. He pulled a pair of heavy steel cuffs from his belt, securing Cassian's hands tightly around the iron cleat, leaving him trapped on his knees on the rain-swept pier.

"Stay here and enjoy the tide, Cassian," Dominic said coldly.

Dominic walked to the edge of the pier, signaling down to Marco, Alina, and Lucia. "The pier is clear. We take the study back."