Chapter 6 - The War for Alora BennettThe hospital corridor was too white.
Alora hated it instantly.
White walls.
White lights.
White blankets.
Everything looked clean while her entire world felt covered in blood.
Doctors took Dominic into surgery.
No one could tell her whether he would survive.
Jax sat across from her.
For once, he had nothing sarcastic to say.
Hours passed.
Alora replayed Dominic's final words until they stopped sounding real.
I love you.
He had waited until he was bleeding on a warehouse floor.
Typical Dominic.
At 4:27 a.m., a surgeon appeared.
Alora stood so quickly the chair moved backward.
“He's alive.”
Her knees nearly failed.
“The bullet missed his heart by less than an inch.”
Jax exhaled.
The doctor continued.
“He lost significant blood. The next twenty-four hours are critical.”
Alora stayed beside Dominic.
Morning became afternoon.
Afternoon became night.
She talked even though he could not answer.
She told him about library patrons.
About Elena threatening to reorganize his entire kitchen while he was hospitalized.
About Jax eating terrible vending-machine sandwiches.
At midnight, she whispered, “You do not get to say you love me and then disappear.”
His fingers moved.
Alora froze.
“Dominic?”
His eyes opened slowly.
“Demanding.”
She began crying.
He looked alarmed.
“No crying.”
“You got shot.”
“Technically I've been shot before.”
“Dominic.”
He stopped.
Alora bent carefully and kissed his forehead.
“I love you too.”
His eyes closed.
This time he smiled.
Cross survived the raid.
Federal prosecutors charged him with kidnapping, conspiracy, attempted murder, extortion, trafficking, and numerous additional crimes supported by Dominic's cooperation.
Marcus Vale accepted a plea agreement in exchange for information.
The criminal network that had controlled parts of Boston for decades fractured.
Dominic spent months recovering.
One afternoon, he and Alora returned to the abandoned gallery.
For the first time, neither was being chased.
Renovation crews had begun restoring the building.
The blood was gone.
Sunlight entered through newly repaired windows.
Dominic stood where he had first seen her.
“You were over there.”
Alora smiled.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything.”
“You looked terrifying.”
“I was.”
“You still are sometimes.”
“Good.”
She laughed.
Dominic reached for her hand.
“I've been thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
He ignored the comment.
“This building.”
“What about it?”
“I bought it.”
Alora stared.
“You what?”
“The city auctioned it.”
“Dominic.”
“I bought it legally.”
She laughed harder.
“That was going to be my next question.”
“I want to turn it into an arts and literacy center.”
Alora stopped smiling.
“You're serious.”
“Your mother and mine tried to protect something here. It seems appropriate.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Dominic immediately frowned.
“You've become very emotional.”
“You bought an abandoned crime scene and turned it into a library.”
“Part library.”
“Still counts.”
He pulled her into his arms.
A year later, the Bennett-Wolfe Cultural Center opened.
Children filled rooms that had once held criminals.
Local artists displayed work where Marcus Vale had hidden his secrets.
Alora managed historical programs.
Dominic funded scholarships anonymously until Alora discovered it and forced him to attend the award ceremony.
His legitimate businesses prospered.
The federal supervision continued.
Some people never trusted him.
Dominic accepted that.
He never asked anyone to forget what he had been.
He simply became more interested in deciding what he would be next.
One evening, Alora returned home late.
Dominic was cooking.
Or attempting to.
Smoke filled the kitchen.
“What happened?”
“The oven is defective.”
She opened it.
“You put the temperature at five hundred.”
“That seems unnecessarily high.”
“You selected it.”
“Technicality.”
She laughed.
Life with Dominic was still not normal.
But it was theirs.
The final danger came from a place neither expected.
A former Cross lieutenant named Stefan Rourke escaped prosecution.
He blamed Dominic for everything.
Instead of attacking him, Rourke targeted the cultural center.
During a charity gala, Alora noticed a man near the service hallway.
She recognized him from federal photographs.
“Dominic.”
He followed her gaze.
His entire posture changed.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Alora.”
“I survived Marcus and Cross. I'm helping.”
She alerted security while Dominic moved toward Rourke.
The confrontation happened backstage.
Rourke carried a gun.
Dominic did not.
“You destroyed everything,” Rourke said.
Dominic stood calmly.
“No. Cross did.”
“You betrayed us.”
“I stopped pretending criminals deserved loyalty.”
Rourke raised the weapon.
Alora watched through a doorway.
Dominic saw her.
For one terrifying instant, history seemed ready to repeat itself.
The gallery.
A gun.
A witness.
But this time Dominic made a different choice.
He did not attack.
He kept Rourke talking while police surrounded the building.
Minutes later, Rourke surrendered.
Nobody died.
Afterward, Alora found Dominic sitting alone in the main gallery.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“That sounded convincing.”
He looked at her.
“I wanted to kill him.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dominic stared toward a restored mural.
“Because I finally understand what my mother meant.”
Alora sat beside him.
“Strength?”
He nodded.
“I spent years believing people feared me because I was strong.”
“And now?”
“Now I think they feared me because violence was the only answer I knew.”
She squeezed his hand.
“You learned another one.”
“Because of you.”
“No.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You learned it because you chose to.”
He smiled faintly.
“You always ruin my dramatic moments.”
“Occupational hazard.”
He kissed her.
Later that night, after the last guests left, Dominic led Alora upstairs.
The gallery roof had been restored.
Boston's skyline stretched around them.
Lights shimmered across the harbor.
Alora looked at him suspiciously.
“Why are we up here?”
Dominic adjusted his jacket.
He looked nervous.
Dominic Wolfe.
The man who once faced armed criminals without blinking.
Nervous.
Alora stared.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You're nervous.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Alora.”
“You're blushing.”
“I have never blushed in my life.”
“You are right now.”
Dominic muttered something under his breath.
Then reached into his pocket.
Alora stopped laughing.
He held a small velvet box.
“Dominic.”
He opened it.
Inside was an elegant ring.
Not enormous.
Not ostentatious.
Beautiful.
“I had a speech.”
“What happened?”
“You talked through half of it.”
She covered her mouth.
He looked into her eyes.
“I've spent most of my life thinking vows were traps.”
His voice softened.
“My father made promises he broke. Men around me swore loyalty and sold it whenever the price was high enough.”
Alora's eyes filled.
Dominic continued.
“Then I met a woman in an abandoned gallery who was terrified of me and still had the nerve to ask my name.”
She laughed through tears.
“You were rude.”
“I was covered in blood.”
“Also rude.”
He smiled.
Then became serious again.
“You taught me that a promise can be something else.”
He took her hand.
“It can be a choice.”
Dominic lowered himself onto one knee.
Alora's breath caught.
“Alora Bennett, will you let me choose you for the rest of my life?”
She could barely speak.
“Yes.”
His shoulders relaxed.
She laughed.
“Yes, Dominic.”
He slid the ring onto her finger.
Then stood.
Alora wrapped her arms around him.
Dominic held her tightly.
For a moment, nothing existed except the city, the gallery, and the extraordinary distance they had traveled from the night they met.
But Dominic still had one more secret.
May you like
And when Alora discovered what he had planned for their wedding—
she would finally understand why the vow he made at the altar would shock every person who had ever known Dominic Wolfe.
