Chapter 3 - THE MIDNIGHT RESCUE: WHEN VITTORIO'S MEN SURROUNDED THE APARTMENT AND CHASE REALIZED HE WAS NO LONGER THE PREDATOR!
The rain began to fall in thick, heavy sheets over South Philadelphia by 9:00 p.m. Katarina sat on the sofa in her apartment, her body rigid with terror. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, counting down the minutes until Chase returned from his weekly poker game.
She had tried to pack a bag, but the fear of what he would do if he caught her leaving had paralyzed her. Her suitcase sat empty in the back of the closet.
At exactly 9:15, the front door unlocked.
Chase walked in, his jacket wet from the rain. He threw his keys onto the counter, his face twisted in a familiar, dangerous scowl.
"Why didn't you answer my texts?" he demanded, walking straight toward her. He smelled of cheap beer and stale smoke. "I told you we needed to talk about your little friend Joanna. You think you can ignore me?"
"I'm sorry, Chase," Katarina said, her voice trembling as she stood up, keeping her weight off her injured ankle. "My phone died at the office. I didn't have my charger."
"Liar," he snarled, stepping into her personal space. He reached out, his hand grabbing her chin, his fingers digging into the exact same bruises Vittorio had uncovered earlier. "You're lying to me, Kat. I can see it in your pathetic eyes. Who were you with today? Was it that Italian bastard?"
"Let go of me, Chase! Please, it hurts!" she cried out, trying to pull away.
"You don't tell me what to do!" he roared, raising his hand to strike her.
CRASH.
The heavy oak front door didn't just open; it exploded off its hinges, splintering into dozens of pieces across the linoleum floor.
Before Chase could even turn around, three massive men in black tactical gear flooded the room. The first man, Enzo, caught Chase’s raised arm, twisting it behind his back with a sickening pop that made Chase scream in agony.
Chase was slammed face-first onto the kitchen island, his nose instantly breaking against the marble.
"What the hell?! Who are you?!" Chase shrieked, his blood pooling on the clean countertop. "Get off me! I'll call the cops!"
The men didn't answer. They stood aside, forming a perfect line of defense as a tall, imposing figure stepped through the shattered doorway.
Vittorio Servino walked into the cramped apartment as if he were entering a five-star restaurant. He wore a long, dark wool coat, his hands resting casually in his pockets. He didn't look at Chase; his eyes immediately found Katarina, who was shaking in the corner of the room.
"Are you hurt, Katarina?" Vittorio asked, his voice incredibly soft amidst the violence of the room.
She could only shake her head, her eyes wide with shock.
Vittorio finally turned his gaze to Chase. He walked over to the kitchen island, pulling a pair of leather gloves from his pocket and slowly putting them on.
"You have a very loud voice for such a small man, Chase," Vittorio said, his tone conversational. He grabbed Chase by his hair, pulling his bloody face up so their eyes could meet. "You like to touch things that do not belong to you. You like to break things that I value."
"I don't know who you are!" Chase gasped, spit and blood flying from his lips. "She's my girlfriend! I can do whatever the hell I want with her!"
Vittorio’s expression didn't change, but the atmosphere in the room turned lethal. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper that made even his own men stand still.
"She is no longer your girlfriend, Chase. She is now under the protection of the Servino family. And if I ever see your face in this city again, I will personally ensure that they never find enough of you to bury."
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Vittorio let go of his hair, letting Chase’s head slam back onto the marble. He looked at Enzo. "Clean this up. Bring her bags."
He extended his hand to Katarina. "Come, Katarina. Your new life begins tonight."
