Chapter 4 - SHADOWS AT THE GATE
The night air was heavy with the stench of salt water and impending blood. From her third-floor bedroom window, Rosie could see the bright headlights of several black SUVs pulling out of the estate gates.
Dante was gone.
The mansion was eerily quiet, guarded only by a skeleton crew of eight men. Rosie sat on the edge of the four-poster bed, her legs pulled up to her chest. Titan lay beside her, his ears twitching at every creak of the old wood floor.
"Is he going to be okay, Rosie?"
Rosie looked up. Leo was standing in the doorway, holding a warm mug of chamomile tea. His eyes were wide with anxiety. Even at sixteen, he knew that the luxury they were living in was built on a knife's edge.
"He'll be fine, Leo," Rosie lied smoothly, taking the mug. "Dante knows how to take care of himself."
"He's scary," Leo whispered, sitting beside her. "But... he looked at you weird before he left."
Rosie paused, her tea halfway to her lips. "What do you mean?"
"He looked at you like... like if anything happened to you, he'd burn the city down," Leo said softly. "The guards talk, Rosie. They say Vance tried to bribe Dante last week with fifty million dollars to trade dock rights, and Dante laughed in his face. But when Vance mentioned your name yesterday, Dante almost choked him to death with his bare hands."
Rosie’s heart skipped a heavy beat. She was just a maid. A vet tech who happened to clean a dog's wound. Why was a ruthless cartel kingpin risking his empire for her?
Suddenly, Titan let out a low, terrifying growl.
The dog stood up, his hackles raised, staring intently at the heavy double doors leading into the hallway.
BANG.
A muted explosion echoed from the floor below, followed immediately by the rapid, frantic chatter of automatic gunfire. The lights in the bedroom flickered once, twice, and then went completely dark.
"Rosie!" Leo gasped, grabbing her arm.
"Under the bed! Now, Leo!" Rosie yelled, shoving her brother into the small space beneath the heavy oak frame.
She grabbed a heavy iron fire poker from the hearth and stood in the center of the dark room. Titan took his position right beside her, his shoulders tense, his lips pulled back over razor-sharp teeth.
Footsteps echoed outside in the corridor—heavy, unhurried, and calculated.
The heavy brass lock on the bedroom door clicked. The door slowly swung open, revealing a tall, muscular figure outlined in the moonlight streaming through the window.
It wasn't Dante.
It was Marcus Vance's top enforcer, a man known as The Butcher. He held a suppressed pistol in his right hand, his face splattered with fresh blood.
"Well, well," the man drawled, his voice dripping with sinister delight. "The mafia boss's little hearing-impaired pet. Vance said you'd be up here."
Titan launched himself forward with terrifying speed.
POP! POP!
Two gunshots shattered the quiet air. Titan let out a painful yelp as a bullet grazed his flank, but the massive dog didn't stop. He slammed into the enforcer's chest, throwing the man backward onto the hard marble floor of the corridor. The gun clattered out of the man's hand, sliding across the floor.
"Get off me, you brute!" the man screamed, punching Titan wildly in the ribs.
Rosie didn't hesitate. Driven by pure survival instinct, she rushed forward, swinging the heavy iron fire poker with all her strength.
CRACK.
The iron struck the enforcer squarely across the temple. The man went limp instantly, slumping against the doorframe.
Rosie dropped the poker, her hands shaking violently. She dropped to her knees, checking Titan's side. The bullet had only grazed his hip, but blood was trickling into his black fur.
"Good boy," she sobbed, pulling the dog's massive head into her chest. "Good boy, Titan."
"Rosalind!"
A deep, desperate voice called out from the bottom of the staircase. Rapid footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Dante appeared at the end of the hall, his dark wool coat torn, covered in soot and blood. His eyes swept over the fallen enforcer, the iron poker, and finally landed on Rosie kneeling on the floor.
In three strides, Dante reached her. He dropped to his knees, his large, gloved hands cupping her face with a desperation that shattered his usual ice-cold demeanor.
"Are you hurt?" he rasped, his eyes frantically scanning her body. "Did he touch you?"
"I'm fine," Rosie breathed, tears spilling over her cheeks. "Titan protected me. I... I hit him with the poker."
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Dante pulled her hard against his chest, burying his face in her hair. His chest was heaving, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. For the first time since she had met him, the terrifying mafia boss was trembling.
"You're safe," Dante breathed into her hair, his voice raw with emotion. "I swear to God, Rosalind, no one will ever touch you again."
