Chapter 7: The Monster He Made.
993 Words
The rain hammered the metal roof of the container, a relentless rhythm that echoed the pulse in my ears. Dominic moved with the confidence of someone who always knew what would come next, his precise, calculated gestures exuding control. Men came and went, their boots tracking mud across the floor, each carrying an aura of purpose. They accepted the photographs and whispered instructions like soldiers taking orders, their nods sharp and unquestioning before they vanished into the storm.
“You’re sending them to Oakbrook Heights.” My voice was steady, though my chest tightened as I stared at the satellite images spread across his desk. The familiar streets—Main Street, where my mornings began; the park, a sanctuary of memories; Victoria’s favorite cafe—were now nothing but coordinates on a battlefield.
Dominic’s lips curled into a smile without lifting his gaze from his phone. “Smart girl.” His fingers danced over the screen, each tap like the beat of a war drum. “Your little town is about to get a lot less boring.”
A pang of guilt stabbed at me, but it didn’t last. Oakbrook Heights, with its tree-lined streets and perpetual small-town charm, had sheltered Victoria too long. When I thought of her walking through the farmer’s market, hand caressing her belly as if to flaunt the life growing inside her, satisfaction doused my hesitation. Shadows were coming, and she deserved them.
“What are your men going to do?” I asked, the words sharper than I intended.
Dominic’s gaze finally met mine, his eyes predatory. “Watch. Wait. Send a message.”
The room seemed colder under his stare. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I hesitated before glancing at the screen—a message from Sarah Miller, the bookstore owner whose shop neighbored Victoria’s usual lunch spot.
Strange men hanging around. Definitely not locals. Victoria’s nervous.
I handed Dominic the phone. His smile widened, cruel and unapologetic. “Good. Fear makes people reckless.”
He wasn’t wrong. By nightfall, Oakbrook Heights’ gossip network was buzzing. Victoria had canceled her yoga class and skipped her hair appointment. A black SUV—unrecognizable and menacing—sat parked outside her house, its presence as loud as a scream in our quiet town.
“Your community is very... chatty,” Dominic mused, reading another text over my shoulder. His cologne enveloped me—spiced leather and danger. My pulse quickened, but I stepped away, needing to think clearly.
“We look after each other,” I said, forcing an edge into my voice. “Usually with casseroles and carpool schedules, not... this.”
He laughed softly, a sound that made the hair on my neck rise. “And which do you prefer? The casseroles or the c*****e?”
The door burst open before I could respond. One of Dominic’s men stood there, rain dripping from his coat. “Boss, we had a shot at Rodriguez. He slipped us at the country club.”
Dominic’s smile vanished, replaced by an icy calm that made the room feel suffocating. “Explain.”
“We moved clean, just like you ordered. But he had a route planned—must’ve been tipped off. He’s heading home.”
“Let him,” Dominic said, his tone devoid of emotion. When I raised an eyebrow, he added, “He’ll run straight to her. And that’s where I want him.”
As if on cue, my phone rang. Martins. My ex-husband’s name flashed on the screen, and for the first time in years, I felt no fear. I answered, letting venom drip from every syllable. “Hello dear Husband".
His voice was breathless, tinged with panic. “Shirley, what the hell are you doing?”
I leaned against the desk, deliberately shuffling through the damning evidence Dominic had compiled—photos, contracts, payments. “I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, letting him hear the sound of papers rustling. “Your secrets aren’t as safe as you thought.”
“Those files—” He stopped himself, scrambling for control. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, coaxing. “Baby, let’s talk. Whatever Dominic’s told you, it’s—”
“Don’t,” I snapped. The word sliced through his attempt at manipulation. “You lost the right to call me that when you crawled into Victoria’s bed.”
“Shirley, please. I made a mistake. But this? Running to him? This isn’t you. You’re better than this.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Better? No, Martins. I’m just getting started.” I lifted another document, savoring its weight in my hands. “You always said I should take more interest in the business. Guess I’m finally taking your advice.”
“Shirley—”
“Think about that while you’re comforting Victoria.” I hung up, my fingers trembling slightly. The power coursing through me was intoxicating, sharp and dangerous.
“Impressive,” Dominic murmured, his approval like gasoline on the fire inside me.
Moments later, my phone buzzed again—a photograph sent by one of Dominic’s men. Martins, rain-soaked and panicked, rushing up the steps of Victoria’s house. The hunted look in his eyes sent a thrill through me.
“Running scared,” Dominic said softly, his breath warm against my ear. “He’ll destroy himself trying to outmaneuver us. Just like old times.”
I turned to face him, meeting his predatory gaze with one of my own. The storm outside raged on, but in this room, watching Martins’ empire crumble, I felt an eerie calm. This was where I belonged—in the eye of the storm, holding the reins of chaos.
Dominic’s hand settled on my shoulder, firm and unyielding. His touch was a reminder of the line I’d crossed, the point of no return. I wasn’t the woman Martins had left behind. I was something new, something stronger. And I wasn’t done yet.
- Writer
