Chapter 7 - The King Commands
Dominic didn't yell.
When Ethan rushed into the study panting, shouting that the east security gate had been compromised and Emma had been taken by Moretti’s remaining loyalists, Dominic’s hands simply gripped the rubber wheels of his chair so hard the rubber groaned.
“Get me the satellite uplink,” Dominic whispered. His voice was barely a breath, but it carried the terrifying weight of a falling mountain.
“Dominic, she’s already halfway down Route 9—” Ethan started.
“Get me the uplink, Ethan!” Dominic roared, slamming his fist onto the mahogany desk so hard the heavy oak cracked down the middle.
Ethan didn't argue.
He slammed a rugged military-grade laptop onto the desk and hooked up the satellite relay.
Dominic rolled his chair forward, his fingers flying across the custom mechanical keyboard with terrifying speed.
He wasn't just a retired mob boss.
Before he owned shipping lanes and nightclubs, Dominic Kane had been a prodigy systems engineer who built the digital encryption network that protected half the cartels and financial institutions on the Eastern Seaboard.
He bypassed every firewall in Harbor City police dispatch.
He tapped into every traffic camera, toll booth sensor, and automated license plate reader between the estate and the state line.
“There,” Dominic hissed, pointing a scarred finger at the monitor.
A black van appeared on screen, passing a traffic light at the intersection of 4th and Elm.
Dominic picked up his secure phone.
“Connect me to Captain Miller.”
Within three seconds, the phone clicked. “Kane? It’s three in the morning—what the hell do you want?”
“Miller,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into the cold, dead register of a judge reading a death sentence. “Two of my former security guards just went rogue, kidnapped an innocent civilian, and are heading toward Route 9 in a black Ford Transit, license plate 7-XYZ-88.”
“Kane, we can’t just mobilize a tactical strike without a warrant—”
“You have sixty seconds to authorize a perimeter blockade, Miller,” Dominic interrupted, “or I will release the encrypted offshore bank records proving that you bought your summer home in Martha’s Vineyard using funds from my port security contracts.”
A heavy, terrified silence hung on the line for two seconds.
“...Consider the road blocked,” Miller snapped, and the line went dead.
Dominic didn't stop there.
He looked up at Ethan, whose eyes were wide with adrenaline.
“Take the heavy chopper from the roof pad,” Dominic ordered, his eyes burning with black fire. “Bring ten men. Take the warehouse on the river apart brick by brick. And Ethan?”
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“Yeah, boss?”
“Leave Moretti breathing for me. I want to collect him myself.”
