Chapter 13: The War Council
By sunrise, Paulie Valente was nothing more than a bad memory dissolving in a chemical vat beneath the floorboards. The shop smelled strongly of bleach and lemon, masking the copper scent of violence.
Dominic’s inner circle—four fiercely loyal capos who hadn’t been compromised—stood awkwardly inside Hayes Prime Cuts. They were hardened killers in tailored suits, looking entirely out of place surrounded by hanging sausages and display cases of premium ribeye.
“The Irish are mobilizing, Boss,” a scarred man named Luca reported, eyeing Riley nervously as she chopped vegetables for a massive pot of stew. “Declan called in hitters from Rhode Island. They are going to hit this shop tonight.”
“Let them come,” Dominic said, sitting on a wooden stool by the counter. He had taken off his ruined jacket, his crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbows. “We funnel them into the alley. Luca, you take the rooftops. Suppressed rifles.”
“Boss, with respect,” Luca hesitated, gesturing toward Riley. “She’s a civilian. She shouldn’t be here. We should move her to a safe house.”
Riley stopped chopping. The rhythmic thwack of her knife ceased, leaving a heavy silence in the room. She turned around, her massive frame imposing, her dark eyes flashing with anger.
“I am not a civilian, Luca, and I do not hide,” Riley stated, wiping her hands on a fresh apron. “This is my shop. My father built it. I bled for it. I am not running.”
“It’s a slaughterhouse out there tonight, lady,” Luca argued, stepping forward. “You’re gonna catch a stray bullet.”
“Luca,” Dominic warned, his voice a low growl. “Watch your tone when you speak to her.”
“Dominic, I don’t need you to defend me,” Riley snapped, pointing her chef’s knife at the mafia boss. “And Luca, you listen to me. I know every blind spot, every shadow, and every exit in this building. When the Irish come through those doors, they are walking into a maze I built.”
“She stays,” Dominic commanded, standing up and closing the distance between him and Riley. “She is the bait. And she is the trap.”
It takes massive courage to refuse a safe house when heavily armed assassins are hunting you. What drives someone to risk everything for a piece of property?
Dominic leaned close to her, lowering his voice so his men couldn’t hear. “Are you sure about this, Riley? Once the shooting starts, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“I don’t need your guarantees, Dom,” Riley whispered back, her steady gaze piercing his armor. “I just need you to not get in my way.”
