Chapter 7 - Fire Beneath the SnowDominic lifted Layla from the hospital bed.
“No.”
She pushed against his chest.
“I can walk.”
“You are thirty-two weeks pregnant.”
“Thirty-three tomorrow.”
“This is not the time to argue about mathematics.”
Smoke continued spilling beneath the door.
The fetal monitors screamed after the sensors pulled free.
Outside, shouting filled the corridor.
Dominic pressed his sleeve against Layla’s mouth.
“Stay behind me.”
“You just picked me up.”
“Then stay behind me spiritually.”
Despite the terror, Layla almost laughed.
Dominic opened the door.
Smoke covered the hallway.
Sprinklers had activated, sending freezing water across the floor.
Emergency lights painted the walls red.
Matteo appeared through the haze with three security men.
“East stairwell is blocked.”
“Fire?”
“Furniture.”
“Deliberate.”
“Yes.”
“West?”
“Unknown.”
Dominic looked at Layla.
“Where are the nurses?”
“Evacuating patients toward the surgical wing.”
A gunshot sounded below.
Then another.
Not a fire.
An assault.
Dominic’s face changed.
“How many?”
“At least six.”
Layla gripped his jacket.
“Patients are here.”
“I know.”
“Ordinary patients.”
“I know.”
The implication mattered.
Dominic could not turn the hospital into a battlefield without killing people who had nothing to do with his war.
“Service elevator,” Layla said.
Matteo looked at her.
“Locked during fire protocol.”
“There is a laundry chute access corridor behind the nurses’ station.”
Dominic stared.
“How do you know?”
“I worked in a hospital laundry for three months after my father became sick.”
Of course she had.
Dominic increasingly realized Layla had lived entire lives he had never bothered to imagine.
“Show us.”
They moved.
Dominic kept one hand at her back.
Matteo led with a weapon.
Behind the nurses’ station, Layla found a narrow utility door.
Locked.
Matteo prepared to shoot it.
“Do not.”
Layla reached above the frame.
“What are you doing?”
“Maintenance workers hide keys.”
She found nothing.
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“That was optimistic.”
“Give me a second.”
Her hand moved beneath the nearby counter.
A magnet.
A key attached.
Matteo stared.
“I am beginning to respect service employees.”
“You should have started years ago.”
They entered.
The corridor was narrow and dim.
Industrial pipes ran along the ceiling.
Behind them, footsteps sounded.
Dominic pushed Layla ahead.
“Move.”
They reached the freight elevator.
Locked.
Matteo opened the control panel.
“I can override it.”
“How long?”
“Two minutes.”
“We do not have two minutes.”
Gunfire struck the utility door behind them.
Dominic positioned himself between the bullets and Layla.
“Do it faster.”
“That is a deeply technical suggestion.”
Layla’s stomach tightened.
She stopped.
Dominic immediately looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“A contraction.”
His face changed.
“No.”
“Dominic, I did not personally schedule it.”
Another bullet hit metal.
Matteo worked.
“Thirty seconds.”
The contraction intensified.
Layla gripped a pipe.
Dominic wrapped an arm around her.
“Breathe.”
“I know how.”
“I do not.”
“That is obvious.”
He almost smiled.
Then the utility door burst inward.
A man entered with a rifle.
Dominic fired.
The attacker fell backward.
Another appeared.
Matteo shot him.
“Elevator!”
The doors opened.
They entered.
Matteo pressed the basement level.
“Parking?”
“Too obvious.”
“Then where?”
“Sub-basement.”
Dominic frowned.
“This hospital has a sub-basement?”
“Old service tunnels,” Matteo said. “Built during Prohibition.”
Layla stared.
“Of course you know that.”
“I have hobbies.”
The elevator descended.
Dominic kept his hand against Layla’s abdomen.
“Another contraction?”
“No.”
“How long was the last?”
“Maybe forty seconds.”
“How far apart?”
“I do not know.”
He looked offended.
“You are supposed to know.”
“I was distracted by gunfire.”
The doors opened.
Cold air entered.
The sub-basement was almost completely dark.
Matteo activated a flashlight.
Old brick tunnels extended beneath the hospital.
A security man appeared from another passage.
“Vehicle is waiting at the south exit.”
They moved through the tunnels.
Behind them, more gunfire echoed.
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
He answered.
“Report.”
His expression hardened.
“The attackers?”
Pause.
“Alive if possible.”
Layla looked at him.
He added reluctantly, “Do not execute anyone inside the hospital.”
She nodded approval.
Dominic rolled his eyes.
They reached a steel door.
Snow blew through the opening.
A black SUV waited in an alley.
Dominic helped Layla inside.
Another contraction began.
This one stronger.
She gasped.
His face went white.
“No.”
“Stop saying no as if the babies are employees.”
“How close?”
“I still do not know.”
Matteo climbed into the front.
“Where are we going?”
“Safe house.”
“Which one?”
“Lake Forest.”
Layla shook her head.
“Too far.”
Dominic looked at her.
Another pressure moved through her abdomen.
“My water may have broken.”
Silence.
Matteo slowly turned.
Dominic looked down.
The seat beneath Layla was wet.
His face transformed.
“You are delivering.”
“Possibly.”
“Now?”
“Apparently.”
Dominic looked toward Matteo.
“Hospital.”
“The hospital is currently under attack.”
“Different hospital.”
“The nearest secure medical center is fifteen minutes.”
“Go.”
The SUV accelerated.
Layla closed her eyes.
The contractions were no longer random.
They came every few minutes.
Dominic held her hand so tightly she finally complained.
“You are hurting me.”
He released instantly.
“Sorry.”
“You just apologized.”
“Do not become distracted.”
Another contraction hit.
Layla cried out.
Dominic looked completely helpless.
She almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
The second hospital was smaller.
Gallo security reached it first.
An obstetric team waited.
Dominic followed Layla into the delivery area.
A nurse blocked him.
“Only one support person.”
“I am the father.”
“Then remove the gun.”
He looked down as if he had forgotten he carried it.
Matteo accepted the weapon.
“Good luck.”
Dominic gave him a dark look.
Inside, the doctor examined Layla.
“You are six centimeters.”
Dominic frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your children are not waiting.”
“They should.”
The doctor ignored him.
“Twin A is head down. Twin B is transverse.”
“English.”
“One baby is positioned normally. The second may require intervention.”
Dominic looked toward Layla.
She was breathing through another contraction.
“Is she safe?”
“We are going to do everything possible.”
He hated that answer again.
Hours became fragments.
Pain.
Instructions.
Heartbeats.
Dominic’s hand.
Layla sometimes cursed him.
Sometimes begged him not to leave.
He never did.
At one point she screamed, “This is your fault.”
Dominic answered, “Entirely.”
The nurse laughed.
Layla did not.
Near noon, the doctor made a decision.
“Twin A is coming.”
Dominic stood beside Layla.
“You can do this.”
She glared.
“If you tell me to breathe, I will kill you.”
“I was not going to.”
“You were.”
“I was.”
Another contraction.
Layla pushed.
Pain exploded through her.
Dominic had watched men die.
He had caused men to die.
Nothing had ever frightened him like watching Layla labor to bring his child into the world.
Then suddenly there was a cry.
Small.
Thin.
Beautiful.
Dominic stopped breathing.
The doctor lifted a tiny infant.
“A boy.”
Layla began sobbing.
Dominic stared.
His son was impossibly small.
Dark hair covered his head.
His fists moved weakly.
A neonatal team carried him to a warming station.
“Why is he not louder?”
Dominic demanded.
“He is premature.”
“Is he breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Then why—”
“Dominic.”
Layla reached for him.
He returned immediately.
“We have another baby.”
The second twin’s heartbeat changed.
The monitor alarmed.
The doctor’s expression sharpened.
“I need an operating room.”
Layla looked terrified.
“What?”
“Twin B is in distress.”
Dominic’s blood froze.
“What do you need?”
“We are moving to emergency Caesarean.”
Everything accelerated.
Consent forms.
Doctors.
Masks.
Bright lights.
Dominic remained beside Layla’s head behind a sterile curtain.
She shook violently.
“Dominic.”
“I am here.”
“What if—”
“No.”
“Stop doing that.”
“I cannot.”
Tears moved toward her ears.
“I am scared.”
Those words shattered him.
Dominic leaned close.
“So am I.”
It was the first time he said it.
Not implied.
Not hidden behind rage.
Spoken.
Layla looked at him.
“You are?”
“Terrified.”
She took his hand.
“Good.”
He almost laughed.
“Why is that good?”
“Because I am not alone.”
The surgery began.
Minutes stretched.
Then a doctor spoke.
“We have her.”
A second cry entered the room.
Higher than the first.
Angrier.
“A girl.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Layla sobbed.
“Our daughter.”
“Our daughter,” he repeated.
The doctor lifted the tiny infant briefly before the neonatal team took her.
She had Layla’s mouth.
Dominic knew it immediately.
He kissed Layla’s forehead.
“You did it.”
“We did.”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“You.”
Layla looked at him.
The ruthless Chicago Butcher was crying.
He did not hide it.
For once, Dominic allowed something to exist without controlling it.
Later, the twins were transferred to neonatal intensive care.
Their son required oxygen.
Their daughter required monitoring but breathed independently.
Layla recovered in a private room.
Dominic stood between two incubators.
His hands rested against the clear plastic.
He had never seen anything so small.
His son weighed four pounds.
His daughter slightly less.
Matteo appeared behind him.
“They are beautiful.”
Dominic did not look away.
“They look unfinished.”
“They are premature.”
“The doctor says they are stable.”
“That is good.”
Dominic nodded.
Then Matteo’s expression changed.
“There is something else.”
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“We identified the hospital attackers.”
“Moretti.”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“One of them was not Moretti.”
Matteo handed him a photograph.
Dominic looked at the dead man.
He recognized the tattoo near the wrist.
Rossi family insignia.
Victor Rossi had sent men into the hospital.
The alliance between Rossi and Moretti was no longer theoretical.
Dominic looked back toward his children.
“Lock the city down.”
Matteo nodded.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“Victor is demanding another meeting.”
Dominic’s expression became empty.
“Give him one.”
“When?”
Dominic touched the incubator.
His son’s tiny fingers moved.
“Tonight.”
Matteo studied him.
“What are you going to offer?”
Dominic smiled.
It contained no warmth.
“Nothing.”
Across the room, his daughter moved beneath her blanket.
Dominic looked at both children.
The Morettis wanted Gallo heirs.
The Rossis had tried to help them take those heirs.
For months, Dominic had fought to defend an empire.
That war was over.
May you like
A different war had begun.
And this time he was fighting as a father.
