Chapter 15 - The Gala of SnakesThe Chicago Opera House was pitch black, silent, and hauntingly beautiful. The moonlight spilled through the grand stained-glass windows, illuminating the red velvet seats.
I walked down the center aisle, the heels of my stiletto boots clicking against the marble floor. I was wearing a sleek black trench coat, carrying a silver briefcase. Hidden perfectly beneath the collar of my coat was a micro-transmitter, broadcasting my exact location to Victor’s personal server.
Sitting in the front row, casually smoking a cigar, was a man who looked like an older, more twisted version of Victor. His hair was slightly longer, his eyes a terrifying, dead shade of gray.
Dante Russo.
"You have more spine than I gave you credit for, Elena," Dante smiled, standing up and buttoning his charcoal suit. "The master ledger?"
I placed the silver briefcase on the stage and clicked it open. Inside were stacks of encrypted hard drives.
"Everything is there," I said coldly. "The Swiss accounts, the Cayman holdings, the blackmail files on the Mayor. The empire is yours. Now call off your men."
Dante walked up the steps to the stage, stopping inches from me. He smelled of expensive cologne and stale blood. He reached out, his cold fingers violently gripping my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
"You really think you can negotiate with a god, little bird?" Dante whispered. "Did you honestly believe I would let you walk away? You are Victor’s heart. To break him, I don't just need his money. I need to break you."
He snapped his fingers.
From the shadows of the opera boxes, a dozen lasers suddenly painted my chest. Snipers.
"You fell right into my trap, Elena," Dante mocked, caressing my cheek with the barrel of his gun. "Victor will come looking for you. And when he does, he’ll find your beautiful body hanging from the chandelier."
I didn't scream. I didn't cry. Instead, a slow, chilling smile spread across my face.
"No, Dante," I whispered, my eyes locking onto his. "You fell into mine."
I pressed the hidden button on my watch.
The silver briefcase wasn't holding hard drives. It was a high-frequency sonic disruptor.
A deafening, high-pitched screech suddenly exploded from the case, shattering every glass fixture in the opera house. Dante screamed, dropping his gun and clapping his hands over his bleeding ears. The snipers in the balconies collapsed in agony.
Before Dante could recover, the massive oak doors of the Opera House blew open.
May you like
Victor Russo walked in, flanked by fifty heavily armed men, his eyes burning with the fire of a thousand suns.
"Hello, brother," Victor’s voice echoed through the shattered hall. "Welcome home."
