Chapter 4 - The Betrayal
🚨 "THE TRAP WAS SET, BUT I WAS THE ONE WHO GOT CAUGHT." 🚨"Don't move, you little bitch," a voice hissed in my ear.
It wasn't Owen. It was Marcus, Dante’s top lieutenant—the very man who had been crouching on the pavement the night before, pretending to collect the scattered papers.
The ballroom erupted into chaos as guests realized something was wrong. From the balcony, Owen was shouting for his security, but Marcus already had me moving toward the service exit, the knife pressed hidden against my ribs.
"Dante!" I tried to scream, but Marcus slammed a hand over my mouth, dragging me through the heavy oak doors into the labyrinthine service hallways of the hotel.
"Dante can't hear you, sweetie," Marcus sneered, dragging me toward the freight elevator. "Did you really think Dante was the only one who wanted that fifteen million? He’s getting old, soft. Getting distracted by a pretty face. Owen and I have had a deal cooking for months."
My mind raced. Marcus was the mole. He had been feeding Owen information, helping him hide the money, and tonight was supposed to be their final payday.
The elevator doors opened, and Marcus threw me inside. Waiting in the dim light of the basement garage was Owen, his tuxedo disheveled, his eyes wild with a mixture of rage and desperation.
"Did you get it?" Owen demanded, grabbing Marcus by the lapels. "The accounts are wiped clean! Where is the money?"
"Relax," Marcus barked, shoving Owen away. "The girl’s thumbprint routed the money to a blind holding account. Dante thinks it went to his family funds, but it’s sitting in a ghost trust that requires both her signature and my decryption key to unlock. We have the girl. We have the power."
Owen turned to me, his face twisting into a hideous, familiar grin. He raised his hand and struck me across the cheek, the force of the blow knocking me to the concrete floor. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
"You thought you were clever, didn't you?" Owen spat, kneeling down and grabbing my hair, forcing my face up. "Running to the big, bad mafia boss. You're nothing, Serena. You're just a key to a vault. And once we turn that key, Marcus and I are going to leave your body in the Chicago River."
"Dante will find you," I whispered through the pain, staring into Owen's eyes. "He knows what you are."
"Dante is currently surrounded by forty of my loyal men upstairs," Marcus laughed, pulling a heavy-caliber pistol from his jacket. "By the time he realizes I'm gone, he'll be fighting for his life. Now, sign the digital transfer on this tablet, or I start taking you apart piece by piece."
Marcus held out a glowing tablet. The screen displayed a final authorization form that would legally transfer the fifteen million dollars into a private account in the Cayman Islands.
My finger hovered over the screen. If I signed, I was dead. If I didn't sign, I was dead.
Suddenly, the heavy metal doors of the garage blew inward with a deafening explosion. Smoke and shards of steel filled the air. Marcus spun around, firing blindly into the mist, but three rapid gunshots echoed through the space, and Marcus dropped to the floor, a pool of dark blood spreading beneath his chest.
Through the smoke stepped Dante Rossi.
His tuxedo jacket was gone, his white shirt stained with soot and blood that wasn't his own. In his right hand, he held a smoking Beretta. His gray eyes were absolute ice.
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"I told you to leave her alone, Owen," Dante said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
Owen scrambled backward, using me as a human shield, pulling his own small handgun from his ankle holster and pressing it against my temple. "Stay back! Stay back or I blow her brains out! I swear to God, Rossi, I'll do it!"
