Chapter 5 - THE GHOSTS OF THE PAST
The ambulance sirens wailed outside Blackthorne House, but inside, the ballroom was a tomb of smoke, shattered crystal, and frozen terror.
My mind spun as the shock threatened to drag me back under. How? How was he alive?
Julian Vance—the man who had orchestrated my father’s ruin, the man who had burned my family’s estate to the ground, and the man I had watched plunge off a cliff into the freezing Hudson River eight years ago—was standing right here in the heart of the Mercer syndicate’s fortress.
The shooting wasn't a random hit. It wasn't just an attack on Caleb to destabilize Dominic’s empire.
It was a message. A personalized, beautifully wrapped death warrant addressed specifically to me. Julian had tracked me down. He had known I was hiding here all along, using the most dangerous man in New York as my unwitting shield.
"Mara! Stay with me, damn it!" Dominic’s voice roared, pulling my fading attention back to the present. His face was inches from mine, his expression a terrifying mix of absolute fury and unconcealed desperation. He pressed his bare hand directly over the exit wound on my shoulder, applying brutal pressure to stem the arterial spray. "Medics are thirty seconds out! Do not close your eyes!"
"He's... he's not..." I tried to speak, but a bubble of crimson burst from my lips, staining his pristine blue tuxedo shirt.
Dominic’s jaw tightened. He looked up, his slate-gray eyes locking onto his head of security, who was sprinting across the room with a rifle in hand.
"Lock down every exit!" Dominic commanded, his voice dropping into that terrifying, lethal register that made even his armed men flinch. "Nobody leaves this property. Find the shooter, and find the bastard who just spoke near the terrace. Tear this house apart brick by brick if you have to!"
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I felt strong arms slide beneath my back, lifting me off the cold marble. The pain flared white-hot once more, tearing a ragged gasp from my throat, and then the chaos of the ballroom began to dissolve into a gray, swirling mist.
The last thing I saw before the darkness finally pulled me under was Dominic’s face—not the monster of the syndicate, not the ruthless billionaire, but a man watching his world slip away, holding me as if I were the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.
