Nathan didn’t run. He just smiled.
A cold, empty smile that erased seventeen years of brotherhood.
“Don’t look at me like that, Dom,” Nathan said, slowly drawing a suppressed pistol from his jacket. “You built this empire, but you’ve gone soft. Listening to a four-year-old? Defending a maid?”
Marcus and Daniel raised their weapons, but four of Nathan’s men stepped from the shadows of the stairs. Traitors. Half the security team was already his.
“Claire and I are taking the territory,” Nathan sneered. “Mia just saw too much.”
Mia clutched Harper, shivering inside Dominic’s oversized coat. She looked up, her voice raspy but desperate.
“The wine, Mr. Vale,” she gasped. “The 1990 reserve. I saw Claire injecting the corks. They were going to serve it to you and your loyal captains at the wedding.”
Nathan chuckled. “Smart maid. Shame she won’t live to tell anyone else.”
Dominic didn’t panic. He didn’t even raise his gun.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy black remote.
Nathan’s smile vanished.
“You think I survived this long by trusting blindly?” Dominic’s voice was pure ice. “Atlantic City was a fake trip, Nathan. I was hunting a mole. I just didn’t know it was my best friend.”
Dominic pressed the button.
Massive steel blast doors slammed shut at the top of the stairs, sealing off the cellar entirely.
“You poisoned my wine?” Dominic whispered.
He grabbed an iron crowbar and smashed it into the 1990 reserve rack. Dark red liquid exploded across the stone floor.
Instantly, noxious, burning fumes began rising from the spilled vintage. The liquid poison was airborne.
Dominic scooped up Harper, wrapped his arm around Mia’s waist, and kicked open a hidden escape panel behind the empty casks.
“Enjoy the tasting, brother.”
The secret door clicked shut behind them, leaving Nathan pounding on the steel and screaming as the deadly air filled his own perfect tomb.