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Chapter 9 - The Sterling Trap

Victor Sterling stepped fully into the tiny, freezing apartment, his expensive shoes crunching on the splintered wood of the broken door.

"Arthur always was a careless idiot," Victor sneered, keeping the heavy shotgun leveled directly at Hannah's chest.

"But I suppose I should thank you, Doctor Reed, for clearing my path to the head of the family."

Dominic stepped smoothly in front of Hannah, shielding her entirely with his own broad body.

"If you pull that trigger, Victor, you will not leave this room alive," Dominic promised, his voice radiating pure, lethal intent.

Victor laughed loudly, gesturing to the three heavily armed men backing him up.

"You are completely unarmed, broke, and hiding in a slum, Dominic," Victor mocked.

"Walter tipped me off about this location before his yacht went up in flames."

"He offered me half the city if I finished the job he couldn't."

Hannah’s mind raced frantically, her eyes darting around the tiny, familiar apartment she had survived in for a year.

She knew every single creaky floorboard and faulty wire in this miserable room.

"Victor, please, you already have your brother's empire," Hannah pleaded softly, playing the terrified victim flawlessly.

"You don't need to kill us."

She slowly backed away, feigning absolute panic, until her back pressed against the old, rusted radiator pipe near the wall.

"I don't need to, but it certainly ties up loose ends," Victor smiled cruelly, racking the shotgun slide.

Hannah reached behind her back and gripped the heavy, faulty brass valve she had complained to the landlord about for months.

With one violent, desperate twist, she snapped the pressurized valve completely off the pipe.

A massive, deafening blast of scalding hot, high-pressure steam erupted directly into the tiny room.

The thick, blinding white steam instantly filled the space, screaming like a jet engine.

Victor shouted in agony as the boiling steam struck his face, completely blinding him.

He fired the shotgun blindly, the heavy slug tearing a massive hole in the ceiling above Dominic’s head.

Dominic did not hesitate for a fraction of a second.

He lunged through the blinding steam, disarming Victor with a brutal, bone-snapping twist of his wrist.

He grabbed the shotgun and turned it on the three disoriented thugs, firing three rapid, devastating shots that dropped them instantly.

The tiny apartment descended into silence, save for the loud hissing of the broken steam pipe.

Dominic grabbed Victor by the collar, dragging the screaming mob boss toward the open window.

"You are going to call Walter right now," Dominic ordered, pressing the hot barrel of the shotgun under Victor's chin.

"You are going to tell him that I am dead, and you are bringing my body to the main warehouse to collect your payment."

Victor nodded frantically, terrified tears mixing with the red burns on his face.

"I'll do it! I'll do it!" Victor sobbed pathetically.

An hour later, Dominic parked Victor's sleek black SUV outside the massive, supposedly abandoned Moretti shipping warehouse.

Hannah sat in the passenger seat, holding Victor’s discarded pistol with steady, determined hands.

"You stay in the car with my mother," Dominic commanded softly, looking over at her.

"I am finishing this alone."

"Not a chance in hell, Dominic," Hannah replied, checking the magazine with a sharp click.

"Walter ruined my life too, and I am going to watch him fall."

Dominic looked at her stubborn, beautiful face, realizing he had finally found an equal partner in a world full of cowards.

"Stay close to me," Dominic murmured, offering a rare, genuine smile.

They dragged a bound and gagged Victor toward the heavy steel doors of the warehouse.

Inside, Walter was standing near a desk covered in laptops, finalizing the massive offshore transfers.

Walter looked up with a triumphant smile, expecting to see Victor carrying a corpse.

Instead, Dominic walked out of the shadows, flanked by Hannah, holding the heavy shotgun.

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"Hello, Walter," Dominic said coldly, racking the slide with a terrifying, metallic clack.

"I believe you are sitting in my chair."

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