Chapter 8 - THE TRAP IS SPRUNG
The rain came down in relentless sheets over the deserted streets of the harbor district.
Rosie walked aimlessly, her head spinning with grief and confusion. Titan walked beside her, his head low, constantly checking her face with worried eyes. She knew she shouldn't have left the safety of the estate without security, but the pain in her heart was too overwhelming to think clearly.
She ended up near the old animal shelter on 4th Street—the place where she had volunteered as a teenager. The building was abandoned now, its windows board-up, surrounded by dark alleyways.
"I just wanted things to be honest, Titan," Rosie whispered into the cold rain, leaning against the damp brick wall of the building.
Suddenly, Titan’s body went completely rigid.
A low, vicious growl erupted from the dog's chest. Rosie turned her good ear toward the street, but before she could react, two black vans screeched to a halt at both ends of the narrow alley, blocking her in completely.
Heavy footsteps echoed against the wet pavement.
Marcus Vance stepped out from the lead van, wearing a heavy trench coat and holding a silenced pistol. Behind him stood eight heavily armed mercenaries.
"Well, well," Vance sneered, a twisted, victorious smile spreading across his face. "The little bird flew out of her cage."
Rosie’s blood ran cold. "Vance."
"Did you really think Castellano could protect you forever?" Vance mocked, stepping forward. "You made a huge mistake running away from his guards tonight, sweetie. You just gave me the perfect bait."
Titan let out a deafening bark and charged forward to protect Rosie.
BANG!
A heavy tranquilizer dart struck Titan squarely in the shoulder. The dog stumbled, his legs buckling as the powerful drug hit his system. He collapsed onto the wet pavement, whining helplessly as he tried to drag himself back to Rosie's feet.
"Titan!" Rosie screamed, dropping to her knees beside him.
Two large mercenaries grabbed her arms, dragging her roughly to her feet. Rosie fought back with everything she had, kicking and biting, but their grip was like iron.
Vance walked over, grabbing her chin tightly in his cold hand. "Dante Castellano took my piers, my reputation, and my pride. Now, I'm going to take his heart."
Vance pulled a satellite phone from his coat and dialed a number. He pressed speakerphone.
The call connected on the first ring.
"Vance," Dante’s voice came through the speaker, ice-cold and filled with lethal promise. "If you touch a single hair on her head, I will rip your world apart."
"Too late, Castellano," Vance laughed maliciously. "I have your deaf little maid. She's currently kneeling in the dirt at the old harbor slaughterhouse on Pier 19."
"Name your price," Dante said, his voice dropping into a terrifying, guttural rasp. "Anything. The piers, the money, the empire. Take it all. Just let her go."
Rosie felt a tear roll down her cheek. He was willing to give up everything he built for her.
May you like
"Oh, I'm going to take it all, Dante," Vance sneered. "Come to Pier 19 alone in twenty minutes. No guards, no cops. Or I put a bullet in her brain and feed her dog to the sharks."
Vance hung up the phone and shoved Rosie toward the back of the van. "Get her in the back. The show's about to start."
