Chapter 6 - Shadows of New YorkThe interrogation took place in the soundproof basement of the Lincoln Park estate.
Dante hung by his wrists from an overhead steel beam, his face bruised and swollen, groaning as Mara methodically cleaned the bullet graze on his shoulder and stitched it closed. She worked with cold, detached professionalism, ignoring the blood and the brutal reality of the room around her.
Adrian sat in a leather armchair in the corner, cleaning the barrel of a pistol with a silk cloth.
“Who’s funding the New York expansion, Dante?” Adrian asked softly, not even looking up from his weapon.
“Go to hell, Vale,” Dante spat, coughing up a streak of blood. “You think you’ve won? The commission in Manhattan is already voting on your replacement. You’re a dead man walking.”
Adrian finally looked up. His eyes were completely devoid of human emotion—the eyes of a apex predator that had tasted blood.
He stood up, walked slowly toward Dante, and pressed the cold steel barrel of the pistol directly against the center of Dante’s forehead.
“The commission in Manhattan answers to me, Dante. You just didn’t live long enough to learn the hierarchy,” Adrian whispered.
Before Dante could scream, Adrian pulled the trigger.
Mara flinched, turning her head away as the echoing crack of the gunshot died out in the concrete room. When she looked back, Dante’s body hung limply from the chains.
Adrian turned to her, his expression instantly softening as his gaze locked onto hers. He walked over, ignoring the gore, and gently pulled the bloody latex gloves off her hands, dropping them into a steel bin.
“You didn’t have to watch that,” Adrian said quietly.
“I’m a trauma nurse, Adrian. I’ve seen people die,” she said, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts to remain composed. “I just... I didn’t think I’d be standing next to the executioner.”
“In this city, you’re either the executioner or the executed,” Adrian said, taking her hand in his. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the cold room. “And thanks to you, I’m neither. I’m the king.”
“And what about me?” Mara asked, pulling her hand away. “What happens to the nurse who saved your life once the war is over?”
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Adrian stepped closer, his gaze burning into her soul.
“The war is never over, Mara. And you’re not a prisoner anymore. But you’re never leaving my side either.”
