The Hit Inside the House

The first thing Elena notices is the silence.

Not the controlled quiet that blankets Dominic’s estate every hour of every day but a sharper absence, like sound itself has been cut off at the root. The air feels wrong. Taut. Waiting.

She stands near the window, fingers curled into the curtain, eyes scanning the courtyard below. Guards are posted as usual, two near the fountain, one by the far gate. Everything looks exactly as it should.

Her unease only deepens.

The lock on her door clicks.

Elena turns sharply.

A woman steps inside.

She’s dressed in staff black, hair pulled back, posture deferential. She carries a basket of folded linens balanced neatly on her hip. If Elena hadn’t spent days memorizing the rhythms of the house, she might not have noticed anything off.

But no one enters her room without warning.

“Who are you?” Elena asks, keeping her voice steady.

The woman dips her head. “Housekeeping, miss.”

She steps farther inside.

Elena’s pulse spikes. “They usually knock.”

A polite smile curves the woman’s mouth. “I was told you were awake.”

Elena takes a step back, instinct screaming now. Her gaze flicks to the open doorway.

No guards.

No footsteps.

The woman sets the basket on the table and slowly peels back the cloth covering the linens.

Metal flashes.

Elena reacts without thinking.

She pivots and bolts for the door.

The woman lunges, fingers closing around Elena’s sleeve as the blade slices through the air. Fabric tears. Elena stumbles forward, colliding hard with someone in the hall...

A guard.

He shoves her back with one arm, drawing his weapon with the other.

“DOWN!” he yells.

Gunfire explodes.

Elena screams as she drops against the wall, covering her head. The woman moves fast too fast..

ducking shots, blade flashing as she charges like she knows she’s already dead.

Then a voice cuts through the chaos.

“MOVE.”

Dominic.

He appears at the end of the hall like a summoned demon, shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled, eyes blazing. He doesn’t slow. Don’t shout again.

The guards move instinctively.

The assassin sees him and changes direction, sprinting straight for Elena.

It’s a last play.

Elena’s body locks in place, terror freezing her blood.

Dominic reaches them in two strides.

He catches the woman’s wrist mid-swing, stopping the blade inches from Elena’s throat. Bone cracks under his grip. The knife drops with a metallic clatter.

He slams the woman into the wall, forearm pressing into her throat.

“Who sent you?” he asks quietly.

The woman laughs, wet, broken. “Too late.”

Dominic’s eyes flick to Elena, checking her without words.

Then,

Glass explodes.

A bullet shatters the window at the far end of the hall, spraying shards across marble. Another slams into the wall inches from Elena’s head.

A sniper.

Dominic curses once and grabs Elena by the waist, hauling her into the nearest room...his office and slamming the door behind them.

More shots tear through the hallway.

Wood splinters. A painting shreds apart.

Dominic presses Elena down behind the heavy desk, his body shielding hers.

“Don’t move,” he orders, voice lethal.

Elena nods frantically, breath coming in sharp gasps.

Dominic pulls a gun from the desk drawer, flips open a concealed wall panel, and speaks into his comm.

“Sniper in the courtyard. Left side. Take him.”

The gunfire outside intensifies.

Elena curls in on herself as a bullet slams into the desk, the impact vibrating through her bones.

Dominic shifts closer, covering her fully now.

“This is my fault,” he mutters.

The admission shocks her more than denial ever could.

Then silence.

A beat.

The comm crackles. “Target down.”

Dominic exhales once, sharp and controlled.

He stays still for several seconds longer, like he’s daring the danger to come back.

Finally, he lifts his hand from Elena’s shoulder.

“You hurt?” he demands.

“No,” she whispers. “I’m okay.”

His gaze tracks over her anyway, searching for blood that isn’t there. When he finds none, something dangerous tightens in his expression.

Outside, guards swarm. The female assassin is dragged past the open door, bloodied but alive.

Dominic steps into the hall.

“Basement,” he orders. “Keep her breathing.”

The woman laughs weakly. “You won’t keep her.”

Dominic stops.

Slowly, deliberately, he turns back toward Elena.

His gaze lands on her, not private, not hidden.

Public.

Claiming.

Every man in the hallway sees it.

“So you think,” Dominic says calmly. “Watch.”

He doesn’t touch her.

He doesn’t have to.

The message is unmistakable.

Elena’s stomach flips as guards escort her back toward her room, this time with two inside the doorway, just as Dominic ordered.

The door shuts. The lock clicks.

She sinks onto the bed, heart still racing, the echoes of gunfire ringing in her ears.

This wasn’t a warning.

It was a declaration.

Dominic doesn’t follow.

Instead, he walks straight to the security wing.

The estate is sealed. Gates locked. No exits.

Marco meets him there, face pale, tablet clenched in his hands.

“We reviewed the footage,” Marco says quietly.

Dominic folds his arms. “And?”

“She didn’t breach the perimeter,” Marco continues. “No alarms. No forced access.”

Dominic’s jaw tightens. “Meaning?”

“She was cleared in.”

Silence snaps tight between them.

“That’s impossible,” Dominic says. “No one gets clearance without me.”

Marco hesitates.

Dominic turns slowly. “Say it.”

Marco lifts the tablet.

The screen displays a timestamped access log.

AUTHORIZED ENTRY — MASTER CLEARANCE

Dominic stares at it.

“Master clearance requires your biometric override,” Marco says carefully. “Or someone with linked authorization.”

Dominic’s eyes harden. “Linked to who?”

Marco taps the screen.

A name appears.

A real one.

Not an alias.

Not a codename.

A name Dominic trusts.

The world seems to tilt.

For a long moment, Dominic doesn’t move.

Then his mouth curvesnot in amusement, but in something far colder.

“Seal the house,” he says. “No one leaves.”

Marco stiffens. “Even”

“Especially,” Dominic cuts in.

He locks the tablet with a sharp tap.

“Bring the assassin to the basement,” he continues. “I want answers.”

Marco nods and disappears.

Dominic remains alone in the glow of the monitors, staring at nothing.

The clearance was granted hours ago.

Before Elena ever left her room.

Which means the hit wasn’t reactive.

It was planned.

Timed.

Intentional.

Dominic closes his eyes briefly.

When he opens them, his decision is already made.

The danger isn’t outside his walls anymore.

It’s already inside.