Shadows and Smoke-1

DOMINIC

The cars moved in a tight formation through the snow-covered streets, flashing lights reflecting off windows and ice-slick roads. I kept Jade pressed against my side in the back seat, her head resting on my shoulder. Her face betrayed no pain, but I could feel the tension in her body from her injured leg. Always so stubborn—refusing to admit weakness even when it was just the two of us.

"Status," I demanded into the phone.

Vincent's voice came through the speaker. "Three confirmed dead: Palmer and two customs agents. Four injured, including one of ours—Anton took a bullet in the arm, nothing serious. Fire department has the blaze contained, but the container and most of the evidence is gone."

"And the shooter?"

"Vanished. Police found blood trail leading to tire marks on the access road. Looks like she had a vehicle waiting."

My jaw tightened. "I want the security footage from every camera within a mile of the docks. And find out how the hell she got past our perimeter."

"Already on it. Quintin's with the tech team now." Vincent paused. "Dominic, if José is really alive—"

"Then we'll deal with him." I ended the call, not wanting to discuss possibilities in front of Jade. Not yet. Not when she was already wrestling with the ghosts of the past.

She looked up at me, green eyes sharp despite the chaos we'd just escaped. "You don't have to shield me. If José's alive, I need to know everything."

I should have known better than to try. Jade had an uncanny ability to read my thoughts, to see past the mask I presented to everyone else. It had been that way since she was a child, this strange connection between us that had evolved from guardian and ward, to reluctant attraction, to the complex, all-consuming relationship we shared now.

"We don't know anything for certain," I said carefully. "The sniper could have been using his name to provoke us."

"You don't believe that."

"No," I admitted. "I don't."

She nodded, satisfied with my honesty if not the answer itself. "We need to talk to Cristiano."

The mention of his name still sparked a flicker of jealousy, even after all these years. Irrational, perhaps—Jade had proven her loyalty, her love, beyond question. But old habits died hard, and the memory of seeing them together would always linger.

"If anyone knows whether his father is alive, it's him," she continued, oblivious to my momentary discomfort. "He has contacts in Mexico we don't."

"I'll arrange it," I agreed, "but not today. Today, we get you home and make sure you're safe."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the car swerved suddenly, throwing us against the door. Our driver cursed, regaining control on the icy road.

"Sorry, boss," he called back. "Black ice."

The snow was falling heavier now, visibility dropping by the minute. The weather report had predicted up to a foot by evening—unusual for our coastal city, where winter typically meant rain rather than snow. Climate change, the scientists said. One more unpredictable factor in an already chaotic world.

Jade's hand found mine, our fingers intertwining. Despite everything—the explosion, the sniper, the possibility of a ghost from our past returning—I felt a moment of perfect clarity with her touch. This was what mattered. This was what I fought for. Everything else—the business, the territory, the power—was secondary to keeping her safe.

"When we get home," she said softly, "we need to increase security at the cemetery."

I frowned. "The cemetery?"

"Blaire's grave. If José's alive and targeting us, he might..." She swallowed, unable to finish the thought.

My chest tightened at the implication. The desecration of a grave was a line few would cross, but José García had never respected boundaries. If he sought to hurt Jade, he would aim for her most vulnerable points—and the memory of her best friend was certainly one of them.

"I'll have Jee-min arrange it," I promised.

She nodded, then winced as the car hit another bump, jostling her injured leg. I made a mental note to have Dr. Reyes examine her when we reached the estate. Jade would insist she was fine, but I wouldn't risk her health, not even for her pride.

As we approached the iron gates of Calvetti estate, I caught sight of Vincent's car already parked in the circular drive. The house loomed beyond, lights glowing warmly against the gray afternoon. Once, I had viewed this place purely as a fortress, a strategic base of operations. Now, with Jade beside me, it was something more—a home, however unconventional.

"We'll find out who's behind this," I told her as the gates swung open. "And when we do..."

She finished the thought for me, her voice cold and certain. "They'll burn."

Yes, I thought, pressing a kiss to her temple. They most certainly would.

The situation room in the basement level of Calvetti estate hummed with activity. Maps and satellite images covered the screens along one wall, security footage played on another, and a digital rendering of Aelbank City's port facility rotated slowly on the central display. Around the glass table, family leaders and their seconds gathered, tension thick in the air.

I stood at the head of the table, Jade to my right, Vincent to my left. Aleksandr Tolstoy occupied the far end, flanked by his lieutenant Dmitri. James O'Doherty sat midway down, still in his cemetery clothes, his expression grim. Raeni Dixon and Da'mon Leconte, representing the Caribbean alliance, completed our war council.

"The shooter was professional," Quintin reported, standing beside the screen displaying security footage. "Military trained, based on the shots and movement patterns. We caught glimpses on four different cameras, but nothing clear enough for facial recognition."

"Russian?" Aleksandr asked, his accent thickening with concern.

"The sniper spoke Russian," Jade confirmed, "but that doesn't mean she works for Russians."

Aleksandr's eyes narrowed. "You suggest I would betray alliance?"

"No one's suggesting anything," I interjected smoothly. "We're gathering facts."

"Fact is," James said, "someone knew exactly when and where our shipment would arrive. Someone with inside information."

The unspoken accusation hung in the air. Each family had access to the shipping schedules—necessary for coordinated operations, but also a potential security risk.

"Let's focus on what we know," I redirected. "The sniper mentioned José García by name. If he's alive—"

"He's not," Da'mon interrupted, his Caribbean lilt at odds with his serious tone. "My people in Mexico confirmed his death three years ago. Car bomb outside Guadalajara."

"Did they see the body?" Jade asked.

Da'mon hesitated. "No. The explosion was... thorough."

"Convenient," Vincent murmured.

Raeni leaned forward, gold bangles clinking against the glass table. "If José faked his death, why wait three years to make a move? And why this specific target?"

A valid question. In our world, revenge came swiftly or not at all. Three years of silence made little strategic sense.

"Anniversary," Jade said suddenly, drawing all eyes to her. "El Día de Conmemoración. It's what he called it when he held me captive—the day of remembrance. Today marks exactly three years since I escaped and Cristiano betrayed him."

Understanding dawned across the faces around the table. José's flair for the dramatic had been legendary, matched only by his capacity for cruelty.

"It's a message," I concluded. "He's announcing his return."

"And this is just the beginning," Jade added. "He won't stop with one attack."

Aleksandr slammed his fist on the table. "If Mexican cartel thinks they can bring war to our city, they will learn painful lesson. My men are at your disposal, Dominic."

"As are mine," James echoed, followed by similar pledges from Raeni and Da'mon.

I nodded, acknowledging their support. The alliance had held for over a decade, weathering challenges from outside forces and internal tensions. This would be another test of our collective strength.

"We need confirmation," I decided. "Jade, reach out to Cristiano, but carefully. If José is alive, his son could be compromised."

She nodded, though I saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. Her trust in Cristiano ran deep, forged during their captivity together. Mine, however, remained cautious at best.

"In the meantime, we double security at all critical locations. No one travels alone. All shipments are suspended until we've verified our communications aren't compromised." I glanced at the map of the city, evaluating vulnerabilities. "And we find that sniper. She's our best lead."

"I have contacts in Russian military circles," Aleksandr offered. "If she is former Spetsnaz, someone will know her."

"Good. Work with Vincent on that." I turned to Raeni and Da'mon. "I need your people watching the waterfront. If José's operation has a presence here, they'll need supply lines."

The assignments continued, each family leader taking responsibility for different aspects of our defense and investigation. Throughout it all, Jade remained mostly silent, her mind clearly elsewhere. I knew that look—she was analyzing, connecting dots, seeing patterns the rest of us might miss.

As the meeting concluded and our allies departed, I held Jade back with a gentle touch on her arm. "What are you thinking?"

She waited until we were alone, then moved to the digital map, zooming in on the port area. "The sniper had too much information. Not just the shipping schedule, but the exact container, the customs inspection. Someone is feeding them intelligence."

"A traitor within one of the families?"

"Or someone we trust who's being manipulated." She bit her lower lip, a rare sign of uncertainty. "Dominic, we need to consider the possibility that José has leverage over someone close to us."

The implication was clear—and disturbing. Every person in our inner circle had secrets, vulnerabilities that could be exploited. Finding the weak link would require examining our most trusted allies with cold suspicion.

"Make the call to Cristiano," I said, decision made. "But don't tell him anything we've discussed here. Just arrange a meeting—neutral territory."

She nodded, pulling out her phone. As she stepped away to make the call, I studied the map, calculating potential threats and defensive positions. The port, the warehouse district, the nightclub strip—all potential targets if José wanted to strike at our economic foundations.

But the real target, I suspected, wasn't our business interests at all. It was personal. José had lost everything when Jade escaped—his son, his pride, his standing among the cartels. His resurrection would only make sense if he sought to reclaim what was taken from him and punish those responsible.

Which meant Jade was in danger. Again.

I would die before I let that happen.