Dante Vance did not flinch, nor did he jolt awake the way ordinary men do. Decades of surviving turf wars, assassination attempts, and betrayal had forged his reflexes into something lethal and precise. One second his eyes were closed; the next, they snapped open—dark, cold, and entirely lucid.

“What did you say?” I gasped, my fingers clawing into the sleeve of Dante’s jacket so hard the fabric tore. “What did you just say about Ellie?”

Dante’s face didn't just go cold; it froze into an expression of absolute, apocalyptic fury. The playful, dangerous aura vanished, replaced by the terrifying reality of a apex predator whose lair had just been violated.

“Who?” Dante’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the chaos with the force of a thunderclap.

The scarred enforcer swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his jaw. “The Vanguard Syndicate, boss. Specifically, Viktor’s inner circle. They slipped through the utility ventilation shaft. The perimeter guards are down.”

Marcus Vance, seeing his chance in the ensuing pandemonium, turned to scurry toward the service exit.

In a single, blurring motion, Dante drew a heavy silver-plated pistol from his shoulder holster, spun on his heel, and fired.

BANG.

The bullet slammed into the marble floor one inch in front of Marcus’s Italian leather shoes, sending shrapnel slicing into his ankles. Marcus shrieked, collapsing into a heap of terrified tears.

“Move one more inch, Marcus,” Dante said without even looking back at him, “and I won't aim for the floor next time.”

Dante grabbed my arm, his grip iron-tight but strangely grounding. “Lena. Look at me.”

“My baby! They have my baby!” I sobbed, struggling against him, tears streaming down my cheeks, washing away the expensive makeup. “Dante, we have to go! Now!”

“We are going,” Dante growled, his eyes flashing with lethal intent. He turned to his enforcer. “Get the chopper on the roof warmed up. Clear every floor between here and the helipad. If anyone breathes in our direction, put a bullet in their skull.”

“Boss, what about the federal raid?” the enforcer asked, gesturing to the tactical officers swarming the ballroom.

Dante pulled me into his side, shielding me with his own body as he cocked his weapon. “Let them try to arrest me. Today, the law doesn't matter. Today, I burn down anyone who touches that child.”

Within minutes, we were barreling up the emergency stairwells of the Grand Meridian, bypassing the elevators to avoid traps. Dante moved like a ghost through the concrete corridors, one arm locked around my waist to keep pace with my flying heels.

When we reached the rooftop helipad, the rotor blades of a private chopper were already screaming against the night wind, kicking up a hurricane of dust and loose papers.

As Dante pushed me toward the cabin door, his encrypted phone buzzed violently in his tactical vest. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his entire body went rigid.

“What is it?” I screamed over the roar of the engine. “Where is she?”

Dante looked down at the screen, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle tore. “They didn't take her to the Vanguard warehouse, Lena.”