Chapter 5 - The Turnaround
The bullet didn't hit me.
Instead, a shower of heavy oak splinters exploded from the bedpost right beside my ear as Marcus slammed his body into Vicente, tackling the underboss hard against the antique vanity. Glass shattered as the silver water pitcher crashed to the floor, sending ice cubes and water spilling across the Persian rug.
"Kill them both!" Vicente roared, struggling frantically beneath Marcus’s weight.
The two enforcers raised their weapons.
Before they could squeeze the triggers, a sudden, thunderous crash echoed from the hallway outside. The heavy oak double doors were violently kicked off their iron hinges, splintering inward under an unimaginable weight.
"Nobody moves!" a deep, terrifyingly cold voice commanded from the threshold.
A dozen armed men in unmarked tactical gear swarmed into the bedroom, their assault rifles instantly locking onto Vicente’s enforcers. At the head of the backup unit stood a towering figure in a charcoal-tailored suit, his silver-streaked hair neat, his expression a mask of absolute, unmerciful wrath.
It was Dante Romano.
Alexander’s estranged older brother—the man exiled to Europe ten years ago after a bloody internal war for control of the Chicago underworld.
Vicente froze, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated horror as Dante stepped into the dim red light of the bedroom.
"V-Vicente stammered, dropping his weapon as Dante’s men swarmed him and pinned him face-down to the floor. "Dante... you're supposed to be in Zurich..."
Dante walked slowly past the struggling enforcers, his polished leather shoes clicking softly against the ruined floorboards. He didn't look at Vicente. He didn't look at Marcus.
His chilling, dark gaze locked entirely onto me—and the dying man beneath the silk sheets.
"Well, well," Dante murmured, a dangerous, razor-sharp smile touching the corners of his mouth. "It seems reports of my brother's demise were only slightly premature. Though looking at him now... he certainly gave it a valiant effort."
Marcus scrambled up from the floor, breathing heavily, keeping his gun pointed at Dante’s perimeter guards. "Dante. You have no jurisdiction here. The Commission exiled you."
"The Commission?" Dante laughed, a rich, dark sound that echoed off the high vaulted ceilings. "Marcus, my sweet, naive lawyer... the Commission was bought and paid for by Vicente three weeks ago. Did you really think my dear brother was losing his grip on Chicago by accident?"
My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at Alexander, who was shivering so violently his eyes fluttered open one last time.
In that moment, through the haze of the fever and the lethal poison, Alexander’s glazed eyes didn't look at Dante with surprise.
May you like
They looked at him with recognition.
"You..." Alexander rasped out, blood bubbling slightly at the corner of his pale lips. "You set this... trap."
