THE KING'S LAST GAMBLE

The Unwelcome Passenger

Sal Vane's men dragged Dominic aboard the yacht and threw him into a chair.

His chest was burning. His vision kept blurring at the edges. But he forced himself to sit upright, to keep his eyes open, to look Sal in the face.

Adrian was on the floor a few feet away. Beaten. Bloody. But breathing.

"You're a fool," Sal said, settling into a chair across from Dominic. "A sentimental fool."

"Maybe." Dominic's voice came out rough. "But I'm a fool who's still alive."

"For now." Sal gestured to his men. "Tie him."

They bound Dominic's wrists to the arms of the chair. The rope was tight enough to cut circulation. Dominic didn't struggle. He had expected this.

"Here's how this works," Sal said. "You're going to call your people and tell them to stand down. Then you're going to transfer control of your operations to me. Every account. Every contact. Every asset."

"And if I refuse?"

Sal nodded toward Adrian. One of his men kicked Adrian in the ribs. Adrian groaned but didn't scream.

"I can do this all day," Sal said. "And night. However long it takes."

Dominic looked at his son. Adrian's eyes were open now, watching him. There was fear in them, but also something else—shame.

"Don't do it," Adrian said. His voice was weak. "Don't give him anything."

Sal's man kicked him again. Harder this time.

"Stop," Dominic said.

Sal held up his hand. His man stepped back.

"Then make the call."

Dominic looked at the phone Sal held out to him. Then he looked at Adrian. Then he looked at the water outside the yacht's windows.

"Alright," he said. "I'll make the call."

---

He dialed Vincent's number. It rang twice before Vincent answered.

"Boss?"

"Vincent. I'm on Sal's yacht. He wants me to transfer control of the organization."

A pause. Then Vincent's voice, tight with anger: "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing yet. Stand by."

"Boss—"

"That's an order."

Dominic hung up. He looked at Sal. "There. I made the call."

"That wasn't the call I wanted."

"You didn't specify the content." Dominic leaned back in his chair. "You said make the call. I made the call."

Sal's jaw tightened. He gestured to his man, who kicked Adrian again. This time Adrian cried out.

"Call Vincent back," Sal said. "Tell him to prepare the transfer."

"Or what? You'll keep kicking my son until he dies? He's stronger than that. And I've been in this business for thirty years. I know a bluff when I hear one."

"He's not bluffing." Adrian's voice was weak but clear. "Father, he's not bluffing. He has someone inside. Someone who can take control of the accounts the moment you're dead."

Dominic looked at Sal. "Is that true?"

"Your son is smarter than you give him credit for." Sal smiled. "Yes. I have someone inside your organization. Someone high up. Someone who's been waiting for this moment for years."

"Who?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Sal stood. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to call Vincent back. You're going to tell him to prepare the transfer. And you're going to do it in the next five minutes, or I'll start cutting pieces off your son and sending them to your other son."

Dominic looked at Adrian. His son's eyes were locked on his. There was no fear in them now—only resolve.

"Don't," Adrian said. "Whatever he does to me, don't give him what he wants."

Sal drew a knife from his belt. "Five minutes, Dominic."

Dominic looked at the phone. Then at his son. Then at the knife.

Then he made a decision.

"Vincent," he said when the call connected. "Prepare the transfer. But use the alternate protocol."

There was a pause. Then Vincent said: "The alternate?"

"Yes."

"Understood."

Dominic hung up and looked at Sal. "The transfer will be ready in twenty minutes. My son and I will stay on this yacht until it's complete."

Sal studied him. "You're planning something."

"I'm planning to survive. That's all I've ever planned."

Sal didn't look convinced. But he signaled his men to stand down.

Adrian looked at his father, confusion in his eyes.

Dominic met his gaze and said nothing. But he hoped his son understood.

The alternate protocol wasn't a transfer. It was a trap.

---

Twenty minutes later, the yacht's radio crackled with a message.

"Sal Vane. This is the United States Coast Guard. You are surrounded. Release your hostages and surrender immediately."

Sal spun toward Dominic. "What did you do?"

"I called in a favor." Dominic allowed himself a small smile. "I've been paying off Coast Guard commanders for years. You think you're the only one with friends in high places?"

Sal's face twisted with rage. He raised the knife and lunged toward Dominic.

But Adrian was already moving. Despite his injuries, he launched himself off the floor and drove his shoulder into Sal's stomach. The knife went flying. The two men crashed to the deck.

Dominic's men—who had been tracking the yacht since the marina—chose that moment to attack. They came from the water, from the dock, from two helicopters that had been waiting behind the horizon.

Sal's crew was overwhelmed in minutes. Sal himself was dragged off Adrian and pinned to the deck.

Dominic rose from his chair, his wrists still bound, and walked to where Sal lay.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Dominic said.

Sal laughed—a bitter, broken sound. "You think this is over? You think you've won? I have someone inside your organization. Someone who's been working for me for years. And when they're done, everything you love will be ash."

Dominic crouched down. "Then I'll find them. Just like I found you."

He stood and looked at Adrian, who was being helped to his feet by Vincent.

"You're an idiot," Adrian said. "You could have died."

"I could have." Dominic smiled—the first real smile he had felt in weeks. "But I didn't."

Vincent approached. "What do you want to do with Sal?"

Dominic looked at the man who had haunted him for twenty years.

"Take him to the estate. I want to have a long conversation with him."

---

They flew back to New York that evening. Adrian was treated by a doctor on the plane. Dominic sat next to him, ignoring his own pain, his own exhaustion.

"You should rest," Adrian said.

"I'll rest when I'm dead."

"That might be sooner than you think."

Dominic looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Sal told me something while they were holding me. About the traitor."

"What?"

"He said the traitor was someone you'd never suspect. Someone who's been waiting for the right moment to take everything."

Dominic felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "Did he give a name?"

"No. But he said something else." Adrian met his father's eyes. "He said the traitor was already in the family. And that when you found out who it was, it would break you."

Dominic looked out the window at the clouds below. His chest ached. His heart was racing.

Someone in the family. Someone close.

He thought of Luca, who had admitted his ambition. Of Vincent, who had been suspected. Of Federico, who had been with him since the beginning.

One of them was the traitor. And Sal had known all along.

"Father," Adrian said. "What are you going to do?"

Dominic turned back to him. "I'm going to do what I've always done. I'm going to find the truth. And then I'm going to deal with it."

"And if it breaks you?"

Dominic was silent for a long moment.

"I'll survive. I always have."

But as the plane descended toward the city, Dominic felt something he hadn't felt in years—something he had forgotten how to handle.

He felt afraid.