Tainted Hearts

39 | This Means War

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DOMINIC

The lifeless, underweight bodies of Lorenzo's men guarding a private warehouse in Chicago lay at Dominic's feet, yards from the city. He was just like the wolf in a fairy tale, tearing the property to shreds.

Mr. Helpful wasn't one of them. He let the man off the hook after taking him to the location where Claudia was, as promised.

Raw energy flooded his veins like a high from the purest substance. He fed his addiction by indulging in a mixture of medications whose names he had forgotten and by imagining her untimely death. As he thought about twenty-four hours he lost with her, electricity flooded his cells.

Killing these men was as simple as ordering at Burger King; he had it his way. Nobody would feel safe in his presence until he was through.

Including Claudia.

God alone knows what they were doing to her, but she was inside this building. She had to live. He refused to consider other possibilities.

Dominic spotted several guards on the first floor and the rooftop as he crossed the empty parking lot.

He paused by the wall to look at the roof. Grabbing the emergency ladder and holding onto the staircase, he took three steps at a time. Up on the balcony, he squatted.

Guards stood in the middle.

Their heads swiveled at him like stray dogs.

"Oh, shit," one of them said.

Staring at Dominic, the other man continued, "We need to alert Mr. Guarini."

Awesome.

No introductions were needed.

Dominic, energized by the drugs, spread his arms and stepped off the edge. The night around them turned darker. He gave them a chance to fight or run. In an instant, he was on them, sneaking up behind the first guard and plowing his hand through the chest of the second.

He turned and shoved the second man into the third. They fell like a stack of cards.

Quick as a cheetah pursuing its prey, the other two guards sprung into action, morphing into taekwondo masters. Dominic's laughter quickly rippled around the void.

"You should've stayed away from me."

He focused on the two guards, pulling them in like fish. They came at him, swinging their arms like drunken soldiers.

They had no anchor, nothing to stop them from going any further. It took less than a second for Dominic to drive his hands through both of their chests.

It was over in the blink of an eye.

He stepped around the bodies and made his way toward the exit. When he tore into the steel door, it was hanging by a thread.

He flew down the steps, consuming the darkness in his fury and reaching for his Glock.

On the lower level, a dozen or more men waited. He couldn't see Claudia, but he had a hunch she was in trouble. He could sense it.

He could also hear a tiny whimper.

Her sound.

A surge of feral, black rage washed up. A live, breathing thing. It rolled over the warehouse floor, clawing at the walls for freedom.

Right then, Dominic turned into a total heartless tyrant, all pumped up to go after his victims. He was about to give all of them a rude awakening because this meant war.