Chapter 11 - The Scent of Treason
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Leo lowered his weapon, glancing at his boss in disbelief. "Boss... Elena is dead. Marco confirmed the remains six months ago—"
"Shut up!" Dante roared, a sound of primal fury that echoed off the glass walls. He scooped up the crumpled document, his eyes scanning the forged bloodline analysis, the broken wax seal, and the bloody handprint.
His jaw worked violently. "The seventh flagstone... she kept the key."
He crossed the room in three strides, standing inches from Hollis. He was over six feet tall, radiating an aura of raw power and lethal intent that made the air feel thin.
"Is she alive?" Dante demanded, his voice a ragged growl. "Tell me the truth, woman. Is my sister breathing?"
"She was twenty minutes ago," Hollis said, refusing to back down an inch. "She has a stab wound under her ribs, infected from being chained in a cellar. Your cousin Marco has men hunting her right now. They kicked my apartment door down looking for her."
Dante turned toward Leo, his eyes burning with an incandescent, murderous fury that seemed to lower the temperature of the entire penthouse. "Marco. That treacherous bastard."
"Boss," Leo stammered, his face pale. "Marco is in the building. He just arrived with his security detail for the two o'clock syndicate council meeting. He’s down on the sixty-fourth floor."
Dante didn't answer. He reached inside his jacket, pulled out an engraved silver Kimber .45, and chambered a round with a sharp, metallic snap.
"Take us to the freight elevator," Dante ordered Hollis, his voice dead and terrifyingly calm. "If she’s alive, you and your son will want for nothing for the rest of your lives. If you led me into a trap..."
"I don't care about your money," Hollis snapped back, her maternal rage breaking through her fear. "I care about the six-year-old boy I had to hide in a church because your family can't keep its own house in order! Now get your coat and follow me!"
Leo’s jaw dropped at Hollis’s insolence, but Dante didn't strike her. Instead, a grim, dark spark of respect flickered in his eyes.
"Move," Dante commanded.
They crowded into the freight elevator, plunging back down into the depths of the tower. When the doors opened on the basement dock, the concrete corridor was pitch-black.
The industrial lights had been smashed.
The pungent, metallic smell of fresh cordite and hot blood hung thick in the cold air.
Hollis’s heart plummeted into her stomach. "No..."
She ran toward the supply closet at the end of the hall. The heavy metal door was blown off its hinges, hanging loosely by a single mangled screw. Inside, the stacks of paper towels were soaked in dark, pooling crimson.
Elena was gone.
Pinned to the wooden supply shelf with a six-inch combat knife was a fresh piece of paper, written in bold, taunting strokes:
*Thanks for delivering the stray, Dante. Bring the family ledger to the Saint Jude’s chapel on 8th Street, or we start by cutting the custodian’s little boy in half.*
May you like
Hollis stared at the words, the world tilting violently beneath her feet, a silent scream freezing in her throat.
Beside her, Dante Moretti gripped his gun until his knuckles went dead white, the eyes of the monster finally awakening.
