Chapter 5 - Blood on the LinoleumThe second intruder dropped his weapon with a metallic clatter as Dante slammed him against the brick wall of the shop. The man choked, his boots kicking wildly in the air before going entirely limp as Dante applied precise, merciless pressure to his carotid artery.
Across the room, Brutus stood planted squarely on the chest of the first intruder, who was whimpering in absolute terror under the crushing weight of a hundred and forty pounds of enraged muscle. The dog’s jaws were inches from the man's throat, warm breath fogging up the operative’s terrified face.
“Dante—don't kill him here!” Emily yelled, rushing down the wooden stairs with a heavy metal fire extinguisher in her hands, her hair wild and her eyes wide with adrenaline. “The cleanup will ruin my flooring!”
Dante glanced up from the unconscious man in his grip, a ghost of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. He dropped the operative to the floor like a sack of wet laundry. The man hit the tiles with a heavy thud and didn't move.
“Good evening, Miss Parker,” Dante said smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt as if he had just stepped out of a boardroom meeting rather than a lethal ambush. “I told you to lock your back door.”
“I did lock it!” Emily panted, dropping the fire extinguisher with a loud clang. “They picked the deadbolt! How did you even get in?”
“The front door was unlocked,” Dante replied simply, walking over to pat Brutus’s broad head. The dog immediately relaxed, stepping off the terrified operative, who scrambled backward like a crab until his back hit the wall.
“It was not unlocked!” Emily protested.
“It is now,” Dante said, gesturing vaguely toward the shattered glass of the front window.
Emily stared. Sure enough, the front pane had been cleanly cut and pushed in.
“Vance’s cleanup crew,” Dante murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. He looked down at the trembling operative pinned against the back wall. “Vance thinks he can tie up loose ends by eliminating my dog, stealing my ledgers, and wiping out a civilian witness all in one night.”
The operative on the floor gasped for air, clutching his bruised neck. “Valente… you’re finished. The Syndicate has the ports. They have the councilmen. Your own security detail has already voted you out.”
Dante walked slowly toward the man, his footsteps making a soft tap-tap sound on the linoleum. He crouched down until he was eye-level with the shivering assassin.
“My security detail,” Dante whispered, “answers to me. Not to a payroll, and certainly not to subordinates with delusions of grandeur.”
Without warning, Dante struck—a lightning-fast open-palm blow to the side of the man’s head that knocked him out cold instantly.
Emily watched, her breath hitching in her chest. The raw, terrifying power radiating from the man standing in her shop was staggering. He wasn't just a businessman; he was an apex predator who had allowed himself to be hunted just to see who would bare their teeth.
“What do we do with them?” Emily asked, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts.
May you like
Dante stood up, turned around, and looked at her with an intensity that made the air feel electric.
“We leave them right here for the harbor police,” Dante said. “And you, Miss Parker, are packing a bag. Because as of five minutes ago, Happy Tails is no longer a safe place for either of you.”
