Chapter 14 - The Gala Ambush
The Vance Foundation Inaugural Gala was the most exclusive event of the Chicago social season.
The grand ballroom of the Vance Tower was draped in gold and white silk, illuminated by massive crystal chandeliers.
Hundreds of the city's wealthiest elites, politicians, and philanthropists mingled, drinking champagne and bidding on silent auction items.
Marin stood at the top of the grand staircase, wearing a breathtaking midnight-blue gown that cascaded perfectly over her curves.
Dorian stood beside her in a bespoke tuxedo, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back.
To the outside world, they were the perfect picture of untouchable wealth and grace.
But beneath the surface, the room was a fortress.
Dorian had fifty plainclothes security contractors blending in with the guests.
Titan, wearing a custom leather harness, sat obediently at the base of the stairs, acting as a visual deterrent to anyone foolish enough to cause trouble.
"You look nervous," Dorian murmured, his lips brushing against Marin’s ear so quietly that no one else could hear.
"I just spent three days hacking into Elias Thorne's shell companies," Marin whispered back, maintaining a flawless smile for the cameras.
"I drained forty million dollars from his Caymans account this afternoon and donated it anonymously to our medical fund."
"I am terrified he knows it was me."
Dorian’s grip on her waist tightened protectively.
"He knows," Dorian assured her quietly.
"But he cannot touch you in a room full of federal judges and police commissioners."
Suddenly, the music stopped.
The heavy, rhythmic hum of the building’s backup generators whined in the distance.
The crystal chandeliers flickered wildly, and then the entire ballroom plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
Screams erupted from the wealthy crowd.
Glass shattered as people panicked, pushing against each other in the sudden blindness.
Dorian did not hesitate for a microsecond.
He grabbed Marin’s waist, pulled her hard against his chest, and dragged her behind the heavy marble pillar at the top of the stairs.
"Titan, secure!" Dorian roared over the chaos.
A massive, terrifying bark echoed from the darkness below, followed instantly by the sound of a man screaming in agony.
Titan had found an intruder.
The emergency lights kicked on, bathing the ballroom in a dim, eerie red glow.
Three men wearing catering uniforms were pushing through the panicked crowd, holding suppressed handguns.
They were not aiming randomly.
They were looking directly up at the staircase.
Dorian pushed Marin flat against the floor behind the marble balustrade.
He reached under his tuxedo jacket and drew his weapon, stepping out from cover.
He fired three rapid, devastating shots.
Two of the fake caterers dropped instantly, the impact throwing them backward into the catering tables.
The third man raised his gun toward Dorian, but Titan was already there.
The hundred-and-fifty-pound dog launched himself through the air, his jaws clamping down on the man's throat, taking him straight to the floor.
The ballroom descended into absolute hysteria as Marcus and the security team swarmed the room, securing the exits.
Dorian knelt beside Marin, shielding her body with his own as his eyes scanned the room for more threats.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice rough with adrenaline.
"No," Marin gasped, clutching his lapels.
Dorian looked at the dead men on the floor, his eyes narrowing into cold, black slits.
May you like
Thorne hadn't just sent a message.
He had declared war in Dorian’s own house.
