Chapter 9 - THE ULTIMATE BETRAYALI followed Adrian’s gaze, and my breath caught in my throat.
Stepping through the shattered frame of the security door, dusting soot from his immaculate designer suit coat, was a man holding a silenced pistol aimed directly at Adrian’s heart.
It wasn't Moretti.
It was Victor Moretti’s chief enforcer? No.
It was someone else entirely.
It was Marcus Vance.
My uncle.
The man who had raised Clara and me after our parents died. The man who supposedly worked a quiet, honest job as a dock supervisor on the Chicago riverfront.
"Uncle Marcus?" I choked out, stumbling backward in absolute disbelief. "What... what are you doing here?"
Marcus lowered his suppressor slightly, a cold, calculating grin spreading across his weathered face. He looked at me, then at Adrian, with an expression of pure, unadulterated contempt.
"I told you to stay out of the rich neighborhoods, Elena," Marcus said, his voice smooth and utterly chilling. "I told you to keep your head down and work at the diner. But you just had to play hero. You just had to crawl out of the dumpster with the Valente brat."
"You..." Adrian’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, his grip tightening around his revolver until his knuckles turned white. "You were my chief port director for twelve years, Marcus. You managed every shipping container coming into the harbor. And all along, you were Moretti’s inside man."
"Moretti pays well, Adrian," Marcus laughed softly, stepping further into the ruined bunker, keeping his gun leveled squarely at Adrian’s chest. "And he promised that when the Valente empire collapsed, the entire waterfront would belong to me. All I had to do was slip a little sedative into the nanny's hands, have her leave the baby out in the freezing cold as a warning, and frame some random passerby."
Marcus glanced over at Clara, who was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.
"I’m sorry, girls," Marcus said, without a single ounce of remorse in his voice. "Business is business. And your sister's heart surgery? Well, I suppose she won't be needing it anymore once we clean house."
He tightened his finger on the trigger.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. I saw Marcus’s index finger begin to press inward. I saw the cold, black circle of the gun barrel align with Adrian’s heart.
And then, with a sudden, explosive burst of movement, Dante lunged across the room, throwing himself directly into the line of fire.
May you like
Crack!
The silenced pistol fired. Dante grunted sharply, a fresh spray of crimson erupting from his shoulder as he slammed violently into Marcus, tackling the older man hard against the concrete wall.
