Chapter 8 - Into the Lion's Den
"You're not going," Dante said, his voice dropping into a lethal register as he stared down at the dark phone screen in my hand.
"Dante, they threatened—"
"They threatened a ghost," Dante interrupted, stepping closer and gripping my shoulders firmly. His gray eyes burned with a terrifying intensity. "Salvatore wants to draw us out into the open where his snipers have a clear shot at the perimeter. The moment you step past those gates, you're a sitting duck."
"Then what's your plan?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs. "We just sit here and wait for him to send another hit squad?"
Dante let out a cold, confident breath, a faint smile touching his lips. "No. We give Salvatore exactly what he wants—minus the target."
Thirty minutes later, the underground garage of the Moretti estate echoed with the low, throbbing rumble of high-performance engines. Two matte-black SUVs idled side by side, their headlights cutting beams through the dim concrete space. Several heavily armed men moved briskly around the vehicles, checking assault rifles and strapping tactical vests across their chests.
I stood near the far pillar, wearing a dark hoodie that swallowed my frame, Orion sitting faithfully beside me like a silent guardian.
Dante walked over, clad in a fresh black tailored suit, a heavy tactical holster strapped across his chest. He stopped right in front of me, his expression softening just a fraction as he looked down.
"You're staying in the armored transport with my head of security, Luca," Dante instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We're going to meet Salvatore's vanguard at the abandoned shipping yard off the East River. It's where he thinks he's cornered us."
"And if it's a trap?" I asked, my fingers clutching the fabric of my hoodie.
"Everything in my world is a trap, Olivia," Dante said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb brushed gently against my cheek, sending a warm shiver through my body despite the freezing tension in the garage. "The only difference is that today, I sprung it."
Before I could reply, Dante turned away, climbing into the lead SUV. The doors slammed shut in unison, and the convoy roared to life, surging out of the underground garage and into the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan.
The ride was a blur of flashing streetlights and roaring engines. Luca, a bulky man with a scar running across his left jawline, kept his eyes glued to the dashboard monitor, tracking the convoy's GPS coordinates. Beside me, Orion rested his massive head heavily across my lap, letting out soft, rhythmic breaths that somehow kept my panic from boiling over.
Within twenty minutes, the sleek SUVs slid to a halt inside the cavernous, rusted expanse of an abandoned shipping yard. Towering metal cranes loomed overhead against the dark, rainy sky, and rows of weathered freight containers formed a claustrophobic maze of shadows.
Our vehicle doors opened, and Luca motioned for me to stay put. Outside, Dante stepped out of the lead vehicle into the pouring rain, his dark coat billowing slightly behind him as he raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Marco!" Dante's voice echoed off the rusted metal containers, sharp and commanding. "You wanted to talk? Step out of the shadows and let's talk like men!"
For a second, the yard was dead silent, save for the patter of heavy rain against the concrete.
Then, from atop a rusted catwalk three stories up, a burst of automatic gunfire shattered the silence, spraying sparks across the metal containers just inches from Dante's head.
"It's a trap!" Luca shouted from the driver's seat, drawing his weapon.
Before I could even scream, the passenger door of our SUV was violently wrenched open—not by Luca, but by a masked gunman who slammed the butt of a rifle directly into Luca's face, knocking him unconscious instantly.
I scrambled backward into the back seat, gasping in horror as a gloved hand reached in, grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt, and dragged me out into the freezing rain.
"Got the target!" a harsh voice barked into a radio comms unit.
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Before I could scream, a heavy sack was pulled down over my head, plunging me into suffocating darkness as I was hoisted over a man's shoulder and carried away into the maze of shipping containers.
***
