Chapter 7 - Sugar, Flour, and Fire
But peace in Harbor City was always a fragile thing.
Carmine was desperate. The federal sting on Pier 5 had devastated his core crew. His brother-in-law Sal was singing to the prosecutors, and the police were closing in on his primary bank accounts. Carmine knew he was being targeted by someone who knew his operations inside and out.
He knew Dominic was alive.
It happened on a rainy Tuesday evening. The bakery was closed, and Nora was in the kitchen preparing the dough for the morning rush. Dominic was in the back office, analyzing the latest financial reports Tony had brought him.
Suddenly, the smell of vanilla and yeast was replaced by something sharp and chemical.
Dominic’s nose twitched. Gasoline.
"Tony!" Dominic called out, his voice sharp with alarm.
But Tony had gone to the grocery store down the block to grab dinner.
A loud smash echoed from the front of the shop—the sound of a brick shattering the display window. A second later, a soft whoosh of air was followed by a bright, terrifying orange glow that erupted through the front dining area.
"Nora!" Dominic yelled, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Nora ran out of the kitchen, her eyes wide with terror as she saw the wall of fire quickly spreading across the wooden floorboards of the front shop. "Oh my god! The bakery! The bakery is on fire!"
"Nora, get Leo!" Dominic ordered, his voice commanding and steady despite the panic screaming in his mind. "Get him out the back door!"
"What about you?" she screamed over the roar of the flames.
"I'll be right behind you! Go!"
Nora ran up the stairs to the small apartment above the shop where Leo was sleeping.
Dominic gripped the wheels of his chair, spinning toward the back exit. But as he reached the hallway, a heavy figure stepped through the rear door, blocking his path.
It was Jimmy Varga. His nose was crooked and held together by surgical tape, his face twisted in a sneer of pure, hateful satisfaction. In his hand was a heavy-caliber pistol.
"Going somewhere, Dom?" Jimmy sneered.
Dominic stopped his chair, his hands resting on the armrests. He was trapped. The front of the building was a raging inferno, and the only exit was blocked by a man who wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in his head.
"You look terrible, Jimmy," Dominic said, his voice cold and steady. "Did the silver platter do that, or did Carmine hit you for being incompetent?"
"Shut up!" Jimmy hissed, stepping closer. "Carmine's done with you. I'm done with you. You took everything from us. Tonight, we burn this place, we burn your little bakery girl, and we burn you in that stupid chair."
Upstairs, Dominic heard Leo cry out in fear, followed by Nora's frantic voice trying to calm him. The smoke was rising, filling the hallway with thick, grey clouds.
Dominic’s mind raced. He had no weapon—his revolver was in the desk drawer, ten feet away, completely out of reach. He was a paralyzed man in a wheelchair against an armed killer.
But Dominic Russo had never relied on his legs to win a fight. He relied on his mind.
"You know, Jimmy," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a conversational tone, "you always were the stupidest guy in the crew. You think Carmine’s going to reward you for this? If I die tonight, the federal prosecutors get my notebooks. Tony has instructions to deliver them the moment my heart stops. Carmine goes down for life. And you? You’ll be the one they blame for starting the fire."
Jimmy hesitated, his eyes darting around the smoke-filled hallway. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Dominic smiled, a cold, confident expression that had terrified men for twenty years. "Check your pocket, Jimmy. Did Carmine give you a burner phone today? The one with the blue casing?"
Jimmy’s left hand instinctively twitched toward his pocket.
It was a bluff—a complete, desperate bluff. But in that split second of hesitation, Dominic gripped the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall beside his chair, pulled the pin, and squeezed the trigger.
A massive cloud of white, pressurized chemical retardant sprayed directly into Jimmy’s face.
Jimmy screamed, blinded and choking on the heavy powder. He fired his gun wildly into the ceiling, the deafening cracks echoing through the narrow hallway.
Dominic didn't hesitate. He slammed his wheelchair forward, ramming the footrests directly into Jimmy’s shins with all his strength. Jimmy lost his balance, slipping on the slick powder, and crashed heavily to the floor.
Dominic grabbed the heavy metal fire extinguisher and brought it down with a sickening crack against Jimmy’s temple. Jimmy went limp.
"Dominic!" Nora’s voice screamed from the smoke.
She ran down the stairs, carrying Leo in her arms, both of them coughing violently.
May you like
"I'm here!" Dominic called out, waving his arms through the thick smoke.
Nora ran to him, grabbing the handles of his chair. With a strength born of pure survival, she pushed him over Jimmy’s unconscious body, out the back door, and into the cool, rain-slicked alleyway just as the bakery windows blew out in a spectacular explosion of glass and fire.
