Chapter Fourteen: The Last Order Dominic Gave
Darkness lasted three seconds.
Long enough for panic.
Long enough for a gun.
Elena heard the shot before she saw the muzzle flash.
Dominic moved from the witness stand.
Not away.
Toward her.
Of course.
The bullet hit him high in the shoulder.
He struck the floor between benches.
People screamed.
Marshals shouted.
Emergency lights washed the courtroom red.
Elena was already moving.
She climbed over a bench, tore off her scarf, and pressed it to the wound.
“Stay with me.”
Dominic laughed.
A wet, terrible sound.
“You hate that line.”
“I hate repeats.”
His blood warmed her hands.
Again.
Always again.
But this time, she knew what to do.
“Pressure here.”
A marshal obeyed.
“Elena.”
“Quiet.”
“Santoro.”
She looked up.
Santoro was gone.
The defense table was empty.
A side door hung open.
Dominic tried to rise.
Elena shoved him down.
“No.”
“He’ll go for Nico.”
The world narrowed to that name.
Nico.
Elena stood.
Dominic grabbed her wrist with his good hand.
“Elena.”
She looked down.
His eyes were wild.
Not for himself.
Never for himself.
“I can’t move fast enough.”
“I can.”
“No.”
She leaned close.
“Trust me.”
His grip loosened.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he chose to.
Elena ran.
The courthouse blurred.
Mara shouted behind her.
Rafe appeared near the hall, gun drawn.
“Nico’s safe house is compromised.”
“Where is he?”
“Panic room. For now.”
“For now?”
“Santoro has Bianca.”
Elena stopped.
“What?”
“He took her from holding.”
Of course.
The last knife.
Not love.
Leverage.
Rafe’s phone buzzed.
A video appeared.
Santoro stood in the safe house kitchen with Nico in front of him and Bianca on her knees beside them.
Nico’s face was white.
Bruno lay at his feet.
Santoro smiled into the camera.
“Bring the chip’s duplicate.”
Elena’s blood turned cold.
Rafe swore.
“There is no duplicate.”
Elena looked at the screen.
At the kitchen.
At the reflection in the dark window behind Santoro.
A monitor cart.
Medical oxygen.
The private clinic hallway.
She knew the house.
She knew the angles.
She knew scared bodies.
“Give me your phone.”
Rafe hesitated.
She took it.
“Elena—”
“Drive.”
Dominic called as she reached the courthouse doors.
She answered.
His breathing was harsh.
“You are not going alone.”
“I’m not.”
“Rafe?”
“Yes.”
“Elena.”
His voice broke.
“Come back.”
She stopped with one hand on the car door.
There were a hundred answers.
Cruel ones.
Soft ones.
Lies.
She chose the smallest true thing.
“Take your pain medication.”
A breath.
Then he laughed once.
Or sobbed.
She ended the call.
The safe house gates were open when they arrived.
Too easy.
Santoro wanted theater.
Men like him needed witnesses.
Elena entered through the clinic wing because no one guarded the place they thought weak.
Rafe followed.
One guard down in the hallway.
Alive.
Barely.
Elena stepped over him.
Nico’s voice carried from the kitchen.
“Dr. Elena will be mad.”
Santoro laughed.
“I hope so.”
Elena looked through the pantry gap.
Santoro held a gun loosely.
Bianca bled from the mouth.
Nico stood too still.
Shock.
Elena picked up an oxygen tank.
Rafe mouthed no.
She mouthed trust me.
Then she stepped into the kitchen.
Santoro turned.
His smile bloomed.
“Doctor.”
Elena held up the tank.
“I brought something better than a chip.”
He laughed.
Then frowned.
She opened the valve.
Oxygen hissed.
Rafe shot the overhead light.
Sparks rained.
Santoro fired.
The oxygen did not explode like movies promised.
It did something better.
It screamed.
The burst startled him sideways.
Elena lunged for Nico.
Rafe fired once.
Santoro’s gun spun across the floor.
Bianca tackled his knees.
Not gracefully.
Not nobly.
Desperately.
Santoro fell hard.
Nico crashed into Elena’s arms.
She covered his head.
Rafe pinned Santoro before he could reach the gun.
Bianca crawled back, shaking.
Blood on her chin.
Pearls gone forever.
Nico sobbed into Elena’s shoulder.
“Papa?”
“He’s alive.”
“Promise?”
Elena closed her eyes.
She had learned not to promise what blood could steal.
Then she felt his little heart beating against hers.
Strong.
Repaired.
“Yes.”
Rafe dragged Santoro up.
The old man’s eyes found Elena.
“You think this ends it?”
Elena stood with Nico in her arms.
“No.”
She looked at Bianca.
Then at Rafe.
Then at the ruined kitchen.
“It changes who controls the ending.”
Police sirens wailed beyond the gates.
Nico clung tighter.
At Elena’s feet, Bruno lay in a smear of blood and spilled milk.
She picked him up too.
Some hearts needed stitches twice.
