Fatally Yours

Chapter 25

•DOMINIK•

I trusted my instincts more than I trusted people. At the end of the day, no one questioned the choices I made daily because they knew I was always right. 

Besides, I wouldn't have been running this entire syndicate by myself for so long if I hadn't trusted my gut from day one. 

Business has been running smoothly since the beginning of the year. Although I have my inner circle taking care of things on my behalf while I handle family matters in Romania, my gut tells me that something bad is bound to happen soon. 

That feeling started after I returned from Romania and found intruders causing a mess at the Echo Chamber a few weeks ago, almost costing Alexa her life. 

I dealt with that problem easily, but the feeling never left. It told me that whatever bad thing was coming wasn't the Echo Chamber incident. 

To make matters worse, Lee brought a new girl into the crew. While she's good at what she does, I'm not ready to trust her completely. 

Since returning to L.A., I've been taking extra precautions—especially now that I'm planning to overthrow several large enterprise owners in Washington. They're so high on their mighty horses, thinking they can join the Mafia and come after me. 

A pathetic strategy, if you ask anybody. Do they seriously think they can win against me? 

I've been keeping these plans quiet to avoid scaring them off. No, I want to hit them with a surprise that'll make headlines across the globe. 

They'll never see it coming. 

Lee is the only person in my inner circle I strategize with. The man's rough around the edges, but over the years, I've developed a habit of seeking his input because his ideas are often surprisingly good and foolproof. He's a smart guy, and I never take him for granted. 

We received a tip from one of our moles in Washington. Lee suggested sending some guys to meet the informant, but I insisted on going in person. I prefer to get information firsthand. 

I hate when people try to challenge me. It triggers the raw, disgusting anger buried inside me—anger that makes me capable of unthinkable things. I prefer calm situations where I don't have to think about killing someone every second of the day. 

But anger is a dangerous thing, and I've spent years mastering it. The last time I lost control, my own home turned into a bloodbath. 

Lee and I sat in the back of the car, waiting for the informant. We were parked at the rear of an empty parking lot. Across from us was a bar with a flickering neon sign on the roof—a sketchy place for a meeting, but if the intel was worth it, I'd take the risk. 

Half an hour passed, and our informant still hadn't shown up. My mind started spinning through possible ambush scenarios. It's not normal for someone to be this late. 

Something wasn't right. 

"Head into the bar and check it out. I'll circle around the back," I told Lee before slipping out of the car, leaving no room for debate. 

I strolled casually down the street past the bar, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. My hand hovered near the gun tucked behind my back, ready to spring into action. 

I used to love the thrill of bloodshed, but nowadays it's all about life or death and I don't fuck with that—especially when the lives of those I care about are on the line. 

As I walked, a black vehicle turned onto the street behind me. Its headlights were dimmed, and it slowed down as it trailed me. My instincts kicked in. 

They could be following me or just passing through, but I doubted the latter. This area was far from the city and virtually unknown to locals. 

I picked up the pace. The car matched my speed, then switched to full-beam headlights. 

Pulling my hood up, I retrieved a cigarette and lighter from my pocket. I flicked the lighter and leaned against a wall, pretending to light up. 

As the car rolled by, I glanced at its windows, but the dark tint obscured any view inside. Once it was out of sight, I flicked the cigarette away and pocketed the lighter. 

I don't smoke—never have and never will. But I enjoy the act of pretending. 

Realizing our informant might not show up, I exhaled in frustration and turned down a nearby alley. 

I didn't see the figure coming. Someone slammed into me, knocking the breath from my chest. I stumbled but quickly regained my balance. 

My hand instinctively reached for my gun, but I froze when the dim streetlamp illuminated their face. 

I frowned, confusion giving way to realization. 

"Well, fancy seeing you here." 

Nova's lips parted in shock as she stared back at me. Her eyes suddenly darted around our surroundings, as if she were worried about someone else catching her red-handed out here in the dark streets. 

"Are you... are you following me?" she stammered. 

"No, but I think, based on your reaction, maybe I should have." I took a step toward her, and she cautiously backed away. "What are you doing here, Nova?" 

"None of your business," she answered, and my jaw clenched. 

"It becomes my business since you work for me. You have ten seconds to start explaining yourself, so choose your next words wisely. If I find a single flaw in your response that gives me a reason to doubt your trust, you're dying right here." 

She visibly gulped, slowly backing away as my hands rested on the gun still tucked behind my waistband. 

It was suspicious to find her here, especially considering the timing. Plus, we've only known her for a few weeks, and during the time she's not working with us, no one knows what she's up to. 

Fuck. Maybe I should've assigned someone to keep a closer eye on her. She better have a good explanation prepared; otherwise, I'll have no reason to doubt she might be with the enemy. 

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. I narrowed my eyes at her. 

"Well?" I prodded, irritated. 

"I—" she paused, her eyes wandering behind me. 

"Start talking, or I will—" 

"Gun!" she cried, suddenly shoving me to the side. 

Gunshots erupted in the alleyway, and I ducked to take cover. Bullets hit the cement wall beside me. I turned and saw the shooter was in the same car from before. 

I reached behind me to grab my gun, but to my shock, it was gone. I scanned the ground, thinking it must've fallen, but then I noticed Nova shooting back—and realized she was using my gun. 

I hadn't even noticed when she took it from me. The little vixen. 

Another gunshot rang out, and my body flinched as a bullet embedded itself in the wall right beside my head. My heart almost stopped for a second before adrenaline overtook my body, pushing the shock aside. 

"Give me that," I snapped, grabbing the gun from Nova's hand before firing back at the car. 

I didn't care if the shooter was still retaliating; their bullets didn't come close to me. I started walking toward the car, pulling the trigger with every step. Each bullet hit the car—I could only hope one managed to hit the fucker inside. 

My jaw tightened as I got closer. But before I could fully empty the magazine, the car sped away. I watched as it swerved wildly, almost hitting the poles on the side, before taking a turn and disappearing completely. 

That was definitely an ambush. Our informant has a lot of explaining to do. 

But first, I turned around and was met with nothing but complete darkness. My fingers tightened around the gun, my eyes narrowing at the empty space behind me. 

Nova was gone.