Chapter 6 - Blood and RedemptionThe warehouse erupted into pure, unadulterated hell.
Men shouted, glass shattered, and heavy boots slammed against the concrete floor. Through the swirling smoke and flashing lights, a terrifying figure emerged at the front of the assault.
Dante Moretti.
He was holding a submachine gun, his face set in a mask of absolute, cold fury. He didn't look like a husband trying to win back his wife; he looked like the angel of death. Every shot he fired was precise, dropping Victor’s guards one by one with chilling efficiency.
Victor panicked, grabbing Lena by the collar and yanking her to her feet, pressing a cold steel revolver against her temple.
"Back off, Dante! One step closer and I blow her brains out!" Victor screamed over the gunfire, his voice cracking with desperation.
Dante froze instantly. The gunfire around him ceased as his men held their positions, their weapons locked on Victor. Dante slowly lowered his weapon, his dark eyes locking onto Victor with a look so murderous it made the older man’s hand shake.
"Let her go, Victor," Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm, deadlier than any shout. "That’s between you and me. She has nothing to do with this."
"She is your weakness!" Victor laughed hysterically, pressing the barrel harder against Lena’s temple. "Sign over the docks, Dante, or watch your precious wife die right here!"
Lena looked across the dim room at Dante. For a second, time seemed to slow down. She saw the raw, agonizing terror in his eyes—not for his empire, not for his money, but for her. In that terrifying moment, every doubt about whether he still cared evaporated.
"Don't do it, Dante..." Lena whispered through her tears.
"Shut up, you little bitch!" Victor snarled, tightening his grip on her arm.
That was all the opening Dante needed. With blinding, superhuman speed, Dante didn't reach for his gun—he drew a heavy throwing knife from his boot holster and launched it through the air.
Thwack!
The blade buried itself deep into Victor’s forearm. With a shriek of agony, Victor dropped the revolver, clutching his bleeding arm and stumbling backward.
Before Victor could recover, Mateo and two Moretti guards swarmed him, slamming him face-first onto the concrete and cuffing him instantly.
Dante didn't look at Victor. He dropped his weapons and sprinted across the warehouse floor, closing the distance between them in seconds. He dropped to his knees beside Lena, his large, trembling hands hovering over her as if he were afraid she would shatter if he touched her too hard.
"Lena... Oh God, Lena, are you hurt?" Dante breathed, his chest heaving, his eyes scanning her body frantically for injuries. "Did they touch you? Did they hurt you?"
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"I'm... I'm okay," Lena sobbed, the adrenaline finally crashing, leaving her shaking uncontrollably. "Dante, get me out of here."
Dante sliced through the zip ties with a pocketknife, pulling her directly into his arms. He lifted her bridal-style against his chest, shielding her from the wreckage and carrying her out into the fresh night air, ignoring everything else around them.
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