Chapter 15 - Dominic Without His Armor
They went north.
No convoy.
No penthouse.
No private club.
Dominic drove an ordinary SUV.
Marco followed thirty minutes behind.
Alex found this extremely funny.
“You look offended by the car.”
“I am.”
“It has heated seats.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
Dominic looked at the dashboard.
“It has cup holders shaped like flowers.”
Alex laughed.
For the first time in weeks, the sound did not feel stolen from disaster.
They rented a house near a coastal town under Alex’s name.
Two bedrooms.
Small kitchen.
Ocean visible between trees.
Dominic stood inside the doorway carrying grocery bags.
He looked deeply suspicious.
“What?”
Alex asked.
“There’s no security system.”
“There’s a lock.”
“One lock.”
“Welcome to normal life.”
“This feels irresponsible.”
“Most people survive it.”
“Unclear how.”
The first week was strange.
Dominic did not know how to be idle.
He woke at five.
Checked every door.
Walked the perimeter.
Read messages from lawyers and business managers.
Then had nothing to do.
On day three Alex found him repairing a loose cabinet hinge.
“You know how to do that?”
“No.”
“You’ve been staring at it for forty minutes.”
“I’m learning.”
“That hinge has defeated more powerful men.”
He glared.
She kissed his cheek.
Dominic froze.
Alex froze too.
It was their first kiss of any kind.
Small.
Almost accidental.
Dominic slowly turned.
“Was that pity?”
“For the hinge.”
He smiled.
Then his hand touched her waist.
“Alex.”
She looked up.
He waited.
Always waiting now.
Learning that closeness required permission rather than certainty.
Alex leaned toward him.
Their first real kiss was quiet.
No dramatic sweep.
No urgency.
Just warmth.
Relief.
Two people standing in a tiny kitchen while the ocean moved beyond the trees.
When they separated, Dominic rested his forehead against hers.
“That was significantly better than diner coffee.”
“Low standard.”
“I’m trying to compliment you.”
“You need practice.”
They built routines.
Morning walks.
Alex worked remotely.
Dominic learned to cook eggs and nearly declared war on a toaster.
At night they talked.
Really talked.
Dominic told her about Elena.
How she used to leave music playing when storms frightened him.
How Michael Russo could be kind at home and terrifying outside it.
How Dominic spent years believing becoming his father was the only way to honor him.
Alex told him about Thomas.
His green pens.
Bad jokes.
The Sunday mornings he took her to the library.
The final morning she saw him alive.
“I was angry at him,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“He missed my school play.”
Dominic listened.
“I told him I hated his stupid work.”
Her voice broke.
“The next day he died.”
Dominic reached for her.
Alex let him.
“I spent years wishing my last words had been different.”
“You were twelve.”
“I know.”
“But knowing doesn’t change it.”
“No.”
Dominic held her.
“Your father knew you loved him.”
“How?”
“Because parents know.”
Alex looked at him.
“You sound confident for someone without children.”
Dominic’s eyes shifted.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
He hesitated.
“I used to want them.”
“Used to?”
“I stopped imagining a family when I understood what mine cost.”
Alex’s heart tightened.
“And now?”
Dominic looked at her.
“Now I try not to imagine too far ahead.”
“Why?”
“Because when I do…”
He touched her cheek.
“You’re always there.”
Alex did not answer.
She simply moved closer.
For three weeks, they almost believed peace could be permanent.
Then Marco arrived.
His expression ended that illusion.
“Vincent’s consolidating crews.”
Dominic looked toward the ocean.
“How many?”
“Enough.”
“Illegal operations?”
“Drugs, extortion, weapons trafficking.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Things he had refused to tolerate were expanding under Vincent.
“He’s using your name,” Marco added.
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“Says he inherited Russo authority.”
“He didn’t.”
“People outside don’t know that.”
Alex closed her laptop.
“What does that mean?”
Marco looked at her.
“Every crime Vincent commits strengthens the belief Dominic still controls things.”
Dominic understood.
“He wants law enforcement focused on me.”
“Yes.”
“While he builds.”
“Yes.”
Dominic paced.
Alex knew the expression.
The armor was returning.
“We handle it legally,” she said.
He looked at her.
“How?”
“Money.”
Marco frowned.
“Vincent’s operation is cash.”
“No operation is only cash.”
Alex opened her laptop.
“He needs properties. Vehicles. payroll. shell companies.”
Dominic’s mouth slowly curved.
“You want to audit him.”
Alex smiled.
“You say that like other people say assassination.”
Marco almost laughed.
For the next week they followed money.
Vincent had been careful.
Not careful enough.
Alex identified a network of companies.
Marco supplied internal records.
Dominic contacted legitimate attorneys.
Evidence went to federal investigators through Samuel Grayson.
For the first time, Dominic fought an enemy without threats.
Without violence.
Without becoming the man Victor raised him to be.
It worked.
Two Vincent businesses were raided.
Three accounts frozen.
Four associates arrested.
Vincent panicked.
Then he made one final mistake.
He called Dominic directly.
“You think you’re better than us now?”
Dominic sat at the kitchen table.
Alex listened.
“No.”
“You think that woman cleaned you up?”
“No.”
“She made you weak.”
Dominic looked at Alex.
His expression softened.
“She made me realize I was tired of proving I wasn’t.”
Vincent laughed.
“You can’t hide forever.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“Then come home.”
Dominic was silent.
Vincent continued.
“One last meeting.”
“Why?”
“To end this.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
Vincent gave an address.
Marco went pale when he heard it.
Alex recognized it too.
Marlow’s Diner.
Vincent laughed quietly.
“Tuesday night.”
The line disconnected.
Alex looked at the clock.
May you like
Tuesday was tomorrow.
And Dominic’s old back booth had just become the location of his final war.
