Chapter 14 - The Secret MeetingFor twenty-four hours, Dante wrestled with the hardest choice of his life.
He couldn't tell Lena. Not because he didn't trust her—she was his anchor, his equal partner—but because the mere mention of Sofia’s name brought back the painful scars of the past, and he refused to let her carry the weight of a new threat while he investigated its validity.
Under the guise of late-night port inspections, Dante slipped out of the penthouse on Tuesday night, driving his unmarked black sedan into the desolate industrial district of South Chicago.
The old railway warehouse loomed like a rusted skeleton against the smoggy night sky. Inside, broken skylights let in pale beams of moonlight, illuminating towering stacks of rotting wooden crates and rusted machinery.
"Sofia?" Dante called out, his voice echoing sharply through the cavernous space. He kept his hand resting firmly on the grip of his concealed firearm.
"Over here, Dante," a voice answered from the shadows near a rusted loading bay.
Dante walked cautiously toward the sound. Stepping out from behind a concrete pillar was Sofia, her face shadowed, holding a thick, manila folder against her chest.
"You came," Sofia murmured, a faint, tragic smile touching her lips. "I wasn't entirely sure you would risk your perfect little family for a ghost."
"I'm risking nothing," Dante said flatly, stepping closer. "Give me the file, Sofia. And tell me who is behind this."
Sofia extended the folder, her hand trembling slightly. "It’s not just one person, Dante. It’s a coalition. The European syndicate—the Moretti family’s old rivals from Sicily—have formed an alliance with the surviving members of the Vance estate. They don't just want your ports anymore. They want your bloodline."
Dante reached out and grabbed the folder, his eyes scanning the first page—cryptic financial wire transfers, overseas property deeds, and surveillance photographs of his ten-year-old twins walking home from their private academy.
Blood roared in Dante’s ears. A primal, suffocating rage flared in his chest. They are watching my children.
"Why tell me this?" Dante demanded, looking up sharply. "What’s your angle, Sofia? You don't care about my family."
"I don't," Sofia admitted coldly, dropping the mask of remorse. "I care about revenge. The Sicilian syndicate ruined my family just as much as they ruined yours by cutting us off. If you take them down, I get my life back."
Before Dante could process her words, a sharp, metallic click echoed from the rafters high above them.
May you like
Snick.
Dante’s survival instincts screamed. He lunged forward, grabbing Sofia by the coat and throwing her to the ground just as a hail of high-caliber sniper rounds punched through the corrugated metal roof, shattering the concrete inches from where they stood.
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