Chapter 8 - THE COLD ROOM CONFRONTATION
Dominic pushed the heavy insulated door open.
A wall of freezing, thirty-two-degree air and the hum of industrial cooling units slammed into his face, carrying the scent of raw meats, chilled produce, and ozone. Fluorescent strip lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh, pale glare across long rows of stainless steel shelving loaded with food trays.
Standing at the far end of the cold room, near a secondary emergency exit door that led to the estate's rear service docks, was Vincent Rossi.
Vincent was fifty-one, broad-chested, with silvering dark hair and a razor-sharp charcoal suit. He was holding a small, heavy stainless steel container—the container that had held the concentrated peanut allergen extract—preparing to drop it into a waste disposal chute built into the wall.
He froze as the heavy door swung open.
Vincent turned around slowly, his face catching the harsh fluorescent light. He tried to force his usual, easygoing smile onto his face, but his eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with a sudden, sharp panic.
"Dominic..." Vincent stammered, his voice raspy against the cold air. "What are you doing down here? Security said the house was on lockdown—"
Dominic didn't answer immediately. He stepped into the cold room, letting the heavy insulated door swing shut behind him with a soft, padded THUD, sealing the two men inside the freezing space.
Dominic walked slowly along the stainless steel shelving aisle, his dark eyes fixed on Vincent's left wrist.
"Show me your watch, Vincent," Dominic commanded softly.
Vincent’s breath hitched in his throat. His left hand twitched, instinctively pulling backward toward his side, but he tried to play it off with a short, nervous laugh.
"My watch?" Vincent scoffed, trying to sound offended. "Dominic... it's the gold watch you gave me three years ago on the anniversary. What does my watch have to do with—"
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"Show me the back of the watch, Vincent," Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping into a register of absolute, terrifying doom.
Vincent stood paralyzed beside the waste chute. He looked at Dominic's massive six-foot-two frame, looked at the cold steel door behind him, and realized with a sickening drop in his stomach that his decades of hidden treachery had reached its final, absolute dead end.
