Chapter 9 - The Tables Turn
Elena finally broke her silence, stepping out from behind the service station and walking slowly toward her husband. The harsh light caught the uneven, freshly shaved patches of her scalp, a sight that caused a muscle to tick violently along Dominic’s jawline. "Dom, stop," Elena said softly, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. The touch instantly reined in the simmering fury that threatened to consume Dominic, though the cold, deadly focus in his eyes did not waver. He looked down at her, his expression softening just a fraction. "You shouldn't have had to endure this, El," he murmured, his voice losing its terrifying edge when speaking to her. "I wanted to prove I could handle the world on my own terms," she replied, offering a tired, reassuring smile. "And I did. But I think my shift is officially over." Dominic nodded, pulling off his expensive cashmere overcoat and gently draping it over her shoulders to cover her uniform and shield her from the staring crowd. He turned back to Preston Hale, who was now trembling so violently he had to grip the back of a chair to stay upright. "Your father built his fortune on city contracts that pass across my desk for zoning approval," Dominic said, stepping closer until he was invading Preston’s personal space. "By Monday morning, Hale Urban Development will be tied up in federal environmental audits, municipal zoning freezes, and labor union strikes that will bankrupt your family before the end of the fiscal quarter." Preston opened his mouth to protest, to threaten him with his father's lawyers, but no words came out. He knew his life as he knew it was over. "And as for you," Dominic added, glancing at the electric clippers still resting on the table next to the half-eaten birthday cake. He picked up the humming device with two fingers, looked at Preston, and casually dropped it into a bucket of melting ice water, where it sparked violently before short-circuiting and dying. "Consider that your only warning."
