CHAPTER FOUR.

Dom.

Panic floods my veins the minute my father drops to the floor on the stage. Silence envelops the room for a moment as I can barely register the fact that the silence I feel is self-imposed. The fact that the whole room isn't as quiet as I'm imagining. That everyone is actually yelling loud enough it should be deafening.

The whole place is in pandemonium and its in such ruckus that I can barely process what is going on around me. Throughout his speech my eyes had been fixed on Alaina Sullivan but now I barely reckon that she is still sitting right beside me. Frozen in panic too.

A part of me wants to wrap her up in my arms, whisper in her ears that she shouldn't be scared. That my father isn't really lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, that everything is fine and that our families haven't even been hiding something so important to her life for years, while I was privy to it. But I can't. I can't say a word. Why? Because I feel so horribly guilty.

Guilty that even as my own father lies in his death, I'm still thinking about some woman. While my father struggles to keep his eyes open, my thoughts still train to the woman beside me. My father doesn't deserve this. But before I can make any decision, someone wraps an arm around Alaina and pulls her towards themselves. This finally snaps me into action. Maybe I needed to see Alaina safe and around before I could finally get myself to move.

"Dom, Dominic!" I can hear someone calling my name but I don't know who, nor do I care who it might be. My thoughts only strain in one direction- my dad, lying on the floor. I want to scream, I want to yell, I want to hit someone but I can't.

I only walk towards his body. Someone has already called an ambulance so I lower myself down and hold on to him. "Father?" I whisper in a broken voice. This is one of the rare times I'll ever feel like this and I know it. My father's been all I had, my whole life. I had no one else, now his life hangs on a weak thread and I don't know what to do.

"S-Son..." He mutters and I brighten up. He's not gone, he's still here. He's still very much alive.

I move closer to him, "Don't say anything dad, no need to waste any more strength. We'll get you to the hospital, you'll be alright." I try to reassure my old man. He gives me a weak smile at this.

"Dom, now don't start lying to me at this age." He manages to sound strong even as I watch his skin pale further. I shoot an angry glare at him. What does he mean by me lying to him? I could never lie to him. The relationship I have with my father is one built on topmost honesty. I can't remember a time when we've ever lied to each other.

I grasp his hand and force his eyes to meet mine. "I'm not lying, Father. We'll save you. I will not let you go, I promise." I say fiercely but he's already shaking his head.

"I know you could never let me go, son. That's why I must be the one to let you- go." His last word cokes out broken, but I hold on tighter. If I can keep him talking much longer then I will. I know the minute he says whatever goodbye he has in mind he'd let himself go.

"You can't leave, father. We have to find whoever tried to kill you. We have to hunt them down and make them pay. You're Donatel Santoro, dad. It'll take more than some silly gun shot to take you down." I whisper quickly.

For the love of God, he actually laughs at this and I can't help the smile that appears on my face. "I am Donatel Santoro, but the biggest title I ever had in my life, son was being called the father of Dominic Santoro. You're the best thing that happened to me, Dominic and I'm glad I made the decision to wed you to that beautiful young woman. You both would make the perfect union, I'm sure of it."

"No we won't dad." I say vehemently, angry at myself that I had thought of her first even after my father was shot. That was one incident I didn't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself of.

My father shakes his head weakly. "I saw the way you looked at her, Dom. You already like her, and you always have what you like. I'm just the bridge to bring you both together, and I'm the happiest bridge there ever could be, son."

His words cause a smile to appear on my face. A bridge? My dad has always been like that. Loving so fiercely anyone around him would be pulled by it. My father may be the fiercest there was in the underworld, but his only weakness was how deeply he loved. No matter who they person was, and I just hoped that hadn't been what led the poor old man to his own death tonight.

Suddenly, my fathers cold hands grab mine as if in a hurry to say something very quickly. That's when I look around us and see that we're almost at the hospital. It felt like I'd been in a trance. I don't remember getting into the ambulance, nor do I remember the whole drive till we got to the hospital.

The feel of how much colder his palm is getting jolts me to what he wants to say. "I'm leaving, son. But I trust you with all the best decisions after I leave. I know you'll lead your life in the best way and as tough as you are, you'll be just like me when it comes to love, and that's the best thing that could happen to you." He whispers.

I want to ask him what he's talking about. Ask him how he can still talk about love when he's at his dying bed but the doors to the ambulance is thrown open right then, so I don't see as my father shuts his eyes closed and gives up even before they can take him in. Or the fear crosses the faces of the paramedics when they see him.

They all know he won't make it, but they can't tell me that. They'll still do their job and try to revive him even if it's a lost cause, because what else can they do? They can't just give up right in front of me, can they? But I wish they would. I wish they'll just tell me right now that it's over. I wish they wouldn't prolong my impending suffering. But humans have never been truthful enough to let you face any hurt when they can lie through it.

So as I watch them wheel my already dead father into the hospital, I can only sit there and pray for a miracle. Anything... "Boss." My head jolts up at the voice. My father's right hand, Matheo stares at me with a weird look.

He's been working for my father for longer than I can even bother to remember but not once have I seen anything other than a cold dead look in his eyes, yet right now I see a strange emotion in his usually dead eyes. Sympathy? I'm not sure I can decipher that right now.

"What do you want?" I can barely help how gruff my voice comes out, thick and choked with anguish. The man only stands straighter at my words, as if expecting me to dismiss him yet ready to follow whatever order I give.

To my surprise, he hands me a white envelope, my father's signature color when it comes to envelopes. The memory almost causes me to laugh but I don't. I don't deserve laughter while my father struggles for his life in the hospital.

"We trailed the person who shot Don, but before we could catch him he shot himself in the mouth." Matheo says unflinching. Most people might find such a scene too gruesome to be said but not this man. "After searching him thoroughly we found this envelope on him."

I stare down at envelope in his hands more carefully now. What was the man who shot my father doing with his envelope? I wonder as I slowly reach for the envelope. Deep down a part of me knows that once I open this envelope and find out what's inside there won't be any going back, still I reach for it with a stilted breath.

"Thank you, Matheo." I say with a quiet dismissal. I'm sure he wouldn't have dared to open the envelope himself so I'm not sure I want him here when I open it either. He might be my father's right hand man because he trusts him, but he isn't mine.

Matheo walks away briskly and I'm left standing, staring at the white envelope that only reminds me of my father and causes my chest to constrict tightly. "What could this hold?" I mutter under my breath. Instead of ripping it open like I want to, I sit back down, gazing at movements in the hospital, trying to take my mind of whatever is inside the envelope, all the while calming myself down.

It's not until almost an hour has gone by that I realize I'm yet to check what's inside the envelope and when I finally rio it open, cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach. It's nothing I expected and everything I might have thought of all in one, which makes it all the more scary.

"Mr. Santoro?" The voice of a bright-looking young woman jolts me. I glance at her and give her a puzzled look. "I'm sorry-" She starts saying but I hold a hand up to her, quickly tucking the documents I had just seen back into the envelope before I turn to her completely.

"Thank you for trying." I reply with a smile while a horrified look appears on her face. Is she expecting me to break down in frightful sobs at the news of my fathers demise? Of course not. Especially when the people responsible for his death are still out there and just whispers out of my reach.

***

The thing about lowly scums like Marcello Sullivan is that they never think they'll get caught, and that isn't fair is it? Why would you perform the most vile act in all humanity and then act surprised when there are consequences?

People will never cease to amaze me. Vile and traitorous rats like Marcello surprise me even more. I always wondered why my father thought it wise to still keep this man close despite how his life panned out. I understand they were friends for a long time, but the man couldn't even be faithful to his own wife. It would take nothing for him to turn on his friend.

"Dom?" The man tied to a chair in my torture room whimpers my name fearfully. Anger that feels as hot as the raging fires of hell consume my mind and I land a heavy blow to his jaw. The cracking sound soothes my ears. Good, I want to break something important of his. Like he broke the most important thing in my own life.

I take a step back away from him place my hand on the table beside the chair he's tied up in, grabbing a glass scotch. I don't take huge gulps. No, those will make me feel drunk and heavy way too soon. I want to wipe out the pain with alcohol but I also want to be same enough to inflict some of it on this man that caused it to me.

"I just have one question for you, Marcello. Why did you do it?" I ask the man coldly. A purple bruise is already forming on his jaw and his eyes can barely stay open yet he manages to muster a confused look at me. Ever the perfect actor. Now I understand how he was able to fool my father into thinking he was his friend even while he plotted his own death.

I lean over the man when I don't get the answer I need, bringing my face close to his as I yell. "Tell me why you did it you piece of shit, tell me!" I land blow after blow on his face, battering it up some more. Not caring that he could die from it but only wanting to ease my pain.

I could have gone at it forever, or maybe until he passed out or died but that isn't what stops me. No, it isn't the thought that I could kill him. It's someone I've been expecting ever since I asked my men to kidnap Marcello Sullivan and bring him here. Someone I wanted to see as I did this. Someone I wanted to feel the same pain I felt too. Her voice shrill as she yells, "Stop!"

You'll be just like me when it comes to love, my father's last words had been. I'm not sure I believed him when he said those words, but now as I stare at the beautiful form of Alaina Sullivan, I wonder if I'll go down like my father, all for love.