Chapter 4 - Shadows of the Syndicate
The gunfire downstairs rattled the crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling of the east suite.
I pressed my back against the reinforced wall beside the door, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The pistol Dante had left on the nightstand—a sleek, black automatic he had tossed there before rushing out—glinted under the flickering red emergency lights. My hands hovered over it, trembling. I had never held a real gun in my life. My mother’s voice rang out in my memory like a curse: You walk the other way.
I’m done walking away, I thought, my jaw tightening as a fresh wave of adrenaline surged through my veins.
The heavy oak double doors of the suite didn't just open—they exploded inward. Splintered wood rained across the Persian rug as a massive shockwave ripped the reinforced deadbolts right out of the frame.
Through the cloud of drywall dust stepped two men in black tactical gear, their faces hidden behind dark balaclavas, automatic rifles raised and sweeping the room.
“Target isn't here!” the first one barked into his shoulder comm. “Wait, check the bath—!”
I didn't think. I lunged across the nightstand, my fingers wrapping around the cold grip of Dante’s gun. I didn't know how to aim, I didn't know the safety switch, but when the second intruder swung his rifle toward my direction, I pulled the trigger with both hands closed tight.
Bang!
The deafening roar inside the enclosed suite felt like a bolt of lightning striking my eardrums. The recoil slammed backward into my wrists, nearly knocking me off balance.
The intruder yelled out, dropping to one knee as a chunk of marble pillar beside his head exploded into white dust. My shot had missed him by inches, but the sheer shock of it bought me a vital second.
Before they could recover, a dark shadow dropped from the ceiling rafters directly behind them.
Dante.
He moved with the terrifying, predatory grace of a cornered panther. His arm swept around the first mercenary’s throat in a brutal chokehold, snapping bone with a sickening crack before the man even realized he was under attack. The second intruder spun around to fire, but Dante was already there, driving the heel of his boot into the man’s chest and sending him crashing backward through the shattered balcony glass out into the stormy night air.
Silence descended on the room once more, broken only by the crackle of the fireplace and the heavy, ragged breathing of the man bleeding on the floor.
Dante stood amidst the shattered glass and broken wood, his suit jacket torn at the shoulder, blood smeared across his knuckles—not his own. His dark eyes scanned the room instantly, landing on me, where I stood frozen with the smoking gun still clutched in my shaking hands.
He crossed the room in two strides, ripped the gun from my grip, and threw it aside, grabbing my shoulders.
“Are you hit? Did they touch you?” he demanded, his voice frantic, stripping away every ounce of the cool mafia boss façade.
“I’m... I’m fine,” I breathed, staring down at my hands. “I missed. I actually missed.”
“You’re alive,” Dante corrected fiercely, pulling me against his chest in a protective embrace that left no room for air. His heart hammered wildly beneath his shirt, matching my own. “That’s all that matters.”
Footsteps pounded down the hallway, and Kael, Dante’s chief of security, burst into the room followed by three armed guards.
“Boss! The perimeter breach is contained, but the east wing comms were jammed from the inside. It was an inside job—someone disabled the biometric locks on the service elevator.”
Dante’s embrace tightened for a fraction of a second before he pulled back, his face turning into a mask of pure ice.
“Who?” Dante asked softly.
“Vincenzo,” Kael said, his jaw tight. “Your father’s former right-hand man. He’s taken the north wing service corridor, and he’s heading toward the nursery.”
My blood ran cold. Leo.
May you like
“Dante,” I gasped, grabbing his arm. “The baby—!”
“Stay behind me,” Dante ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. He drew a secondary weapon from his holster, handing Kael a spare rifle. “Vincenzo thinks he can finish what he started five years ago. He’s going to find out what happens when you wake the dragon.”
