Chapter 4 - The Trial of Blood
The conference room on the thirtieth floor smelled of rain, stale coffee, and cold fear.
The same twelve men who had sat around the walnut table hours earlier were gathered once again. But the atmosphere was no longer one of routine business. Six armed guards in black tactical gear stood against the glass windows, their rifles held across their chests.
Dominic Vale sat at the head of the table.
His charcoal suit jacket was gone. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing dark, intricate tattoos that stretched up his wrists. He was leaning back in his leather chair, a glass of crystal whiskey resting untouched beside his hand.
No one spoke. The silence in the room was suffocating.
"Eight months ago," Dominic began, his voice smooth and terrifyingly low, "a woman left my house."
He looked around the table, his icy gaze locking onto each man one by one.
"She left because she was afraid of this life. She was afraid that the men I work with—the men I share bread with—would hurt her."
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, joining his fingers together.
"Tonight, she gave birth to my son."
A sudden, collective intake of breath echoed around the room. Several lieutenants exchanged panicked glances.
"And three hours ago," Dominic continued, his eyes darkening into midnight, "a hit squad from Milwaukee knew exactly which hospital she was in. They knew her name. They knew her cottage address in Rockford."
He slammed his hand onto the walnut table with a sound like a cannon shot!
Every man in the room jumped.
"Someone sitting at this table," Dominic whispered, leaning over the furniture like a looming shadow, "sold my family."
"Dom, listen," a senior lieutenant named Joseph spoke up, his hands raised in surrender, sweat dripping down his temple. "None of us would ever touch your personal life! We didn't even know she was pregnant!"
"Joseph," Dominic said softly. "Where were you at one in the morning?"
"I... I was at the club on 4th Street! I have twenty witnesses!"
"And who did you call at 1:12 a.m.?" Dominic asked, leaning back, pulling a printed cell phone log from his pocket. "A burner phone registered to a shipping company in Milwaukee."
Joseph turned paper-white. His lips trembled as he tried to speak, but no sound came out.
"You thought I was weak because I let her walk away," Dominic said, his voice dropping into an octave of absolute execution. "You thought my heart was soft because I didn't burn down the city looking for her."
He nodded to the guards.
Two tactical officers stepped forward, grabbing Joseph by his arms and dragging him violently backward away from the table!
"Dom! Please! I didn't know it was for a hit! They told me they just wanted leverage on the South Side routes!" Joseph screamed, thrashing wildly as he was dragged toward the rear exit. "DOMINIC! PLEASE!"
The heavy steel door closed, cutting off his cries instantly.
Dominic picked up his glass of whiskey, took a slow sip, and looked back at the eleven remaining men.
"The South Side routes are closed," Dominic declared flatly. "Milwaukee no longer exists as a business partner. By tomorrow noon, every asset they hold in Illinois belongs to the Vale family."
He stood up, buttoning his collar, adjusting his cuffs with meticulous care.
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"If anyone else at this table ever looks at my wife or my child again," Dominic said softly, "I won't just kill you. I will erase your name from history."
He turned and walked out of the boardroom, leaving eleven men sitting in absolute, terrifying silence.
