Chapter 12 - Sins of the Past
Dorian Vance did not panic when Marin walked into his office carrying the wooden box.
He simply looked at the shattered watch, read the note, and felt a familiar, deadly coldness settle over his heart.
He knew exactly who had sent it.
"Elias Thorne," Dorian said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Marin stood by his desk, her hands trembling slightly despite her best efforts to remain strong.
"Who is Elias Thorne?" she asked.
Dorian closed the wooden box, shielding her from the violent implications of the shattered watch.
"He runs the largest illicit shipping operation in the Midwest," Dorian explained, standing up and walking around the desk to pull her into his arms.
"When Victor was alive, he was funneling my money into Thorne's accounts to fund a massive offshore weapons deal."
"When I killed Victor and froze those accounts, Thorne lost eighty million dollars."
Marin rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heartbeat.
"He wants the money back," she realized quietly.
"He wants my territory," Dorian corrected, his jaw tightening.
"He thinks that because I have legitimized my businesses, I have become weak."
"He thinks that because I have a woman I love, I have a vulnerability he can exploit."
Dorian gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into his dark, absolute eyes.
"He is wrong about both."
"I am not going to let anyone take you back to that dark place, Marin."
"I will handle Elias Thorne before the sun goes down tomorrow."
Marin looked at the man who had torn down his own criminal empire just to keep her safe.
She knew what he was capable of.
She knew the violence that lived inside him, lying dormant but never truly gone.
"You promised me no more blood, Dorian," she whispered, touching the side of his face.
"You promised me we were leaving that life behind."
Dorian closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of her hand.
"I know what I promised," he replied softly.
"But a man like Thorne does not negotiate in boardrooms."
"He only speaks one language."
Dorian turned toward the window, looking out over the sprawling Chicago skyline.
The city had once been his hunting ground.
Now, it was his fortress.
"Elena!" Dorian called out, his voice echoing into the reception area.
The assistant appeared instantly.
"Lock down the building," Dorian ordered.
"Double the security detail on Marin, and call Marcus."
Marin’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the name.
Marcus was the new head of Vance Security, a former Special Forces commander who did not ask questions.
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"Tell Marcus to assemble the strike team," Dorian finished, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"We are going hunting."
