Chapter 5 - The Debt Victor Came to Collect
Dominic’s penthouse office overlooked Lake Michigan from forty floors above Chicago.
Clara stood by the window with her arms crossed.
“This is a bad idea.”
Dominic poured two glasses of bourbon.
“You’ve said that six times.”
“And you still haven’t listened.”
“I listen.”
He handed her a glass.
“I just don’t always obey.”
Clara ignored the drink.
“Victor Rourke doesn’t bluff.”
“Neither do I.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Dominic set the glass down.
“Then start talking.”
Clara stared at him.
“About what?”
“Philadelphia.”
“I told you enough.”
“You told me you refused to throw a fight.”
“That’s the important part.”
“No.”
Dominic leaned against his desk.
“The important part is why a man like Rourke is willing to cross state lines over one fighter three years later.”
Clara’s jaw tightened.
“He lost money.”
“Two million dollars isn’t enough.”
“For Victor, humiliation is more expensive than money.”
Dominic studied her.
“You embarrassed him.”
“I disobeyed him.”
“Same thing to men like him.”
Clara gave him a sharp look.
“You would know.”
Dominic accepted the hit without reacting.
“Probably.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Clara finally walked toward the desk.
“The Mercer fight wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did.”
Dominic waited.
“Victor controlled the underground circuit. He controlled the judges, the promoters, the betting rooms. Fighters thought they were independent.”
She shook her head.
“They weren’t.”
“And you?”
“I was making enough money to pay Evan’s hospital bills.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“Your brother was already sick?”
“He had a heart condition.”
Clara looked away.
“Still does.”
Dominic said nothing.
Clara continued.
“Victor started giving me easy opponents. Then bigger purses. Then private fights.”
“He was building your reputation.”
“Yes.”
“To manipulate betting.”
“Yes.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“And Mercer?”
“Victor told me to lose in the fourth round.”
“You refused.”
“I told him to find someone else.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“I’m guessing he appreciated that.”
“He broke a chair.”
“That sounds like Victor.”
Clara looked at him.
“You know him well?”
“Enough.”
“Then you know what came next.”
“Threats.”
Clara’s eyes hardened.
“Not against me.”
Dominic’s smile disappeared.
“Evan.”
She nodded.
“That was his mistake.”
Dominic waited.
“I went into the fight intending to follow the order.”
He frowned.
“You were going to lose?”
“For Evan.”
Clara’s voice became quieter.
“But Mercer knew the fight was fixed.”
“What did he do?”
“He started humiliating me.”
Dominic said nothing.
“Dropped his hands. Laughed. Told the crowd I was afraid of him.”
Clara’s fingers curled.
“Then he whispered something.”
“What?”
“He told me Victor had already sent two men to Evan’s apartment.”
Dominic’s face went still.
“He was enjoying it.”
Clara nodded.
“So I knocked him out.”
Dominic stared at her.
“How fast?”
“Eleven seconds.”
A small smile appeared despite the tension.
“That sounds familiar.”
Clara ignored him.
“Victor lost almost two million dollars. More importantly, everyone saw me disobey him.”
“What happened backstage?”
Clara’s expression changed.
Dominic noticed immediately.
“Clara.”
“Victor’s nephew tried to stop me from leaving.”
“The broken jaw.”
“Yes.”
“You broke it.”
“Yes.”
“And the hospitalized security man?”
“He pulled a knife.”
Dominic gave a short nod.
“Reasonable.”
Clara stared at him.
“You have a strange definition of reasonable.”
“I work in a complicated industry.”
Despite herself, she almost laughed.
Then Dominic’s phone rang.
Marco.
He answered.
“What?”
Marco’s voice came quickly through the speaker.
“Boss, we have a problem.”
Dominic straightened.
“Where?”
“Cobalt.”
Clara immediately looked at him.
“What happened?”
Dominic put Marco on speaker.
“Tell her.”
Marco hesitated.
“Someone fired through the front windows about ten minutes ago.”
Clara’s expression went cold.
“Anyone hurt?”
“No customers. We were closed.”
“What about staff?”
“Eddie was inside.”
Clara stepped forward.
“Is he okay?”
“He got cut by glass. Nothing serious.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Security cameras?”
“Car had stolen plates.”
“Anything left behind?”
Silence.
Then Marco said, “Yeah.”
“What?”
“A boxing glove.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Dominic looked at her.
Marco continued.
“Red. Hanging from the front door.”
Dominic ended the call.
Clara grabbed her jacket.
“I’m leaving.”
Dominic blocked her path.
“No.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“If you leave now, Victor knows his message worked.”
“He attacked your club because of me.”
“He attacked my club because he thinks I’ll blame you.”
“And will you?”
Dominic stared at her.
“No.”
“Then you’re being stupid.”
“Possibly.”
She tried to step past him.
Dominic moved again.
“Clara.”
“What?”
“He wants you alone.”
“That’s not your problem.”
“It became my problem when he shot at my people.”
Clara’s frustration exploded.
“You don’t understand!”
Dominic’s voice sharpened.
“Then make me understand!”
Silence.
Clara stared at him.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“You think leaving protects everyone.”
She said nothing.
“That’s what you did in Philadelphia.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Careful.”
“You disappeared.”
“Because people got hurt.”
“And did Victor stop?”
Clara didn’t answer.
Dominic continued.
“No. He waited.”
He stepped closer.
“Running didn’t end anything.”
“It kept Evan alive.”
“Maybe.”
Clara shoved him.
Dominic barely moved.
“Don’t talk about my brother.”
“Then stop pretending this only affects you.”
Her breathing quickened.
“You think because you have guards and guns that you can control this?”
“No.”
Dominic held her gaze.
“I think Victor is expecting fear.”
“And?”
“I’d rather give him disappointment.”
Before Clara could respond, an alarm sounded from Dominic’s desk.
A security screen activated.
Marco appeared on the monitor.
“Boss, someone’s coming up.”
Dominic frowned.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
The elevator indicator started rising.
Thirty-two.
Thirty-three.
Thirty-four.
Clara immediately moved toward the side of the room.
“How many?”
“Security says one.”
Dominic opened a drawer.
Clara saw the handgun inside.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“You want me to greet him with bourbon?”
“Could be a messenger.”
“Messengers can shoot.”
The elevator reached forty.
DING.
The doors opened.
A young man stepped out.
Maybe twenty.
Thin.
Nervous.
His hands were raised.
Dominic’s guards surrounded him.
“I’m not armed!”
Dominic stayed behind the desk.
“Who sent you?”
The kid swallowed.
“Victor Rourke.”
Clara stepped into view.
The kid saw her.
His face changed.
“Red.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He reached slowly inside his jacket.
Every gun in the room rose.
“Wait!”
He removed an envelope.
“That’s all.”
Marco took it.
Dominic opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Evan.
Walking through the hospital hallway.
Clara went pale.
Underneath it was a note.
Dominic read silently.
Then Clara ripped it from his hand.
MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. SOUTH DOCK 17. COME ALONE OR YOUR BROTHER PAYS THE BALANCE.
Clara looked toward the messenger.
“Where is Victor?”
“I don’t know.”
“You work for him.”
“No.”
The young man’s voice cracked.
“My father owes him money.”
Dominic looked at Marco.
“Get him out.”
The messenger turned.
Clara stopped him.
“Wait.”
He froze.
“If you see Victor…”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“…tell him I’m coming.”
Dominic immediately turned toward her.
“No.”
The messenger was taken away.
Dominic waited until the elevator closed.
Then he looked at Clara.
“You are not going alone.”
“That message was for me.”
“It was designed for you.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
She grabbed the photograph.
“He knows where Evan is.”
“I’ll move your brother.”
“Victor will still find him.”
Dominic’s voice hardened.
“Not if I protect him.”
“You can’t put a guard on him forever.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“But we can end this.”
Clara stared at him.
“How?”
“Victor expects you alone at Dock 17.”
“Yes.”
Dominic smiled faintly.
“So we give him exactly what he expects.”
Clara narrowed her eyes.
“You have that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one that usually precedes something illegal.”
Dominic picked up his bourbon.
“You work for a mafia boss.”
She stared at him.
“Fair point.”
He took a drink.
“Tomorrow night, you go to the dock.”
“Alone?”
“To Victor, yes.”
Clara studied him.
“And in reality?”
Dominic smiled.
“In reality, Chicago goes with you.”
The following night, fog rolled off Lake Michigan.
South Dock 17 had been abandoned for years.
Broken lights hung above rusted shipping containers.
Clara walked alone through the main gate.
No visible weapon.
No bodyguard.
No Dominic.
She stopped beneath a warehouse light.
“Victor!”
Her voice echoed.
A door opened.
Patrick Sloan appeared first.
Four men followed.
Then Victor Rourke stepped into the light.
He was older than she remembered.
Gray at the temples.
Expensive coat.
Same cold eyes.
He smiled.
“Clara.”
She said nothing.
“You look well.”
“You look old.”
Victor laughed.
“There she is.”
He moved closer.
“The girl who cost me two million dollars.”
“You’ve had three years to earn it back.”
“It was never about the money.”
“I know.”
Victor stopped several feet away.
“It was about respect.”
“No.”
Clara shook her head.
“It was about control.”
Victor’s smile faded.
“You belonged to my organization.”
“I fought for you.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
She stepped toward him.
“That’s the difference you never understood.”
Victor glanced around.
“You came alone.”
“Yes.”
“Castellano finally developed intelligence?”
Clara said nothing.
Victor smiled.
“Good.”
He gestured toward Patrick.
“Bring the papers.”
Patrick produced a folder.
Clara frowned.
“What is that?”
“A contract.”
She laughed.
“You’re joking.”
“You’re returning to Philadelphia.”
“No.”
“You’ll fight six events.”
“No.”
“You’ll repay what you cost me.”
“No.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“Then Evan has a very unfortunate night.”
Clara took another step.
“If you touch him—”
“You’ll what?”
Victor smiled.
“Break my jaw?”
Clara’s hands tightened.
Victor moved closer.
“You’re not in a ring now.”
“No.”
She looked around.
“That’s the mistake you made.”
Victor frowned.
Clara glanced at her watch.
11:59.
Patrick noticed.
“What are you doing?”
Clara smiled for the first time.
“Waiting for the bell.”
Victor’s expression changed.
Then every light in the warehouse went out.
Darkness swallowed the dock.
Men shouted.
“What the hell?”
“Lights!”
A gunshot cracked somewhere outside.
Then another.
Not aimed at anyone.
Warning shots.
Victor shouted, “Find her!”
Emergency lights suddenly flickered on.
Dominic stood on the catwalk above them.
Marco beside him.
More Castellano men appeared behind the shipping containers.
Dominic looked down.
“Victor.”
Victor stared upward.
“You.”
Dominic smiled.
“Surprised?”
Victor’s men raised weapons.
Dominic’s men did the same.
Clara stood directly between the two groups.
“Everybody lower the guns.”
Nobody moved.
Clara shouted.
“I said lower them!”
Dominic looked at her.
Victor laughed.
“You think they listen to you?”
Clara turned toward him.
“No.”
Then she pointed at Dominic.
“But he does.”
Dominic stared at her.
A beat passed.
Then he lowered his weapon.
Marco looked shocked.
“Boss?”
“Lower them.”
One by one, the Castellano men complied.
Victor smiled.
“Weak.”
Clara turned toward him.
“Your turn.”
Victor laughed.
“No.”
Clara nodded slowly.
“That’s what I thought.”
She looked toward Patrick.
“Ask him why.”
Patrick frowned.
“Why what?”
“Why he really wants me back.”
Victor’s face changed.
“Enough.”
Clara continued.
“Ask him what happened to the two million.”
Patrick looked toward Victor.
“What is she talking about?”
Clara smiled coldly.
“He didn’t lose two million.”
Victor snapped, “Shut up.”
“He stole it.”
Silence.
Patrick stared at him.
Clara continued.
“The betting money disappeared before the Mercer fight.”
Victor’s men exchanged looks.
“He planned to blame the loss on me.”
Patrick’s face hardened.
“Victor?”
Victor pulled a gun.
Dominic’s men immediately raised theirs.
Clara didn’t move.
Victor aimed at her.
“You should have stayed gone.”
Dominic’s voice cut through the warehouse.
“Drop it.”
Victor looked up.
“You shoot me, this dock becomes a graveyard.”
Dominic answered calmly.
“Probably.”
Clara stared at Victor.
“Tell them.”
“Tell them what?”
“That you were using every fighter in the circuit to wash money.”
Patrick slowly turned toward Victor.
“You said the Mercer loss emptied the accounts.”
Victor said nothing.
Clara continued.
“The accounts were already empty.”
Patrick’s expression darkened.
“You lied to us?”
Victor suddenly pointed the gun at Patrick.
“Don’t be stupid.”
That was the moment everything broke.
Patrick lunged.
The gun fired.
The bullet struck metal.
Clara moved.
She closed the distance in two steps.
Her hand trapped Victor’s wrist.
He tried to turn the gun toward her.
She twisted.
The weapon dropped.
Then Clara drove one punch directly into his jaw.
Victor collapsed.
Silence returned.
Clara stood above him.
Patrick stared.
Dominic climbed down from the catwalk.
He approached slowly.
Victor tried to rise.
Clara looked down.
“Stay.”
He stayed.
Dominic reached her.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
He looked at Victor.
“That was satisfying.”
Clara almost smiled.
Then Victor laughed from the ground.
“You think this is over?”
Clara looked down.
“No.”
She stepped away.
“But you are.”
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
Victor’s face changed.
He looked at Dominic.
“You called cops?”
Dominic looked offended.
“Absolutely not.”
Clara raised her phone.
“I did.”
Dominic stared at her.
“You called the police?”
“Yes.”
“You could’ve mentioned that.”
“You would’ve complained.”
“I am complaining.”
Patrick began backing toward the shadows.
Clara pointed toward him.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
She looked at Victor.
“The FBI has copies of your accounts.”
Victor went pale.
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“When did you do that?”
“Three years ago.”
“You had evidence this whole time?”
“I had enough to survive.”
Sirens grew louder.
Victor stared at her with pure hatred.
Clara leaned down.
“You wanted me back in Philadelphia?”
She spoke quietly.
“You should’ve left me in Chicago.”
Red and blue lights began flashing beyond the dock gates.
Dominic turned toward Clara.
“We should leave.”
She looked at him.
“You worried about the police?”
“I have a reputation to maintain.”
Despite everything, Clara laughed.
Dominic stared at her.
It was the first time he had heard the sound without bitterness behind it.
And for one dangerous second, the war around them didn’t matter.
Then Marco shouted from the gate.
“Boss! We need to move!”
Dominic held out his hand.
Clara looked at it.
“You seriously expect me to take your hand?”
“We’re escaping a crime scene.”
She stared at him.
“You make terrible arguments.”
“Yet you keep following me.”
Clara took his hand.
“Don’t get used to it.”
They ran toward the waiting car as police vehicles poured into the dock.
Behind them, Victor Rourke’s empire was beginning to collapse.
But Dominic knew something Clara did not.
May you like
There was still one man inside his own organization who had been secretly speaking to Victor.
And that betrayal was about to turn the final chapter into the most dangerous fight of Clara’s life.
