Chapter 5 - The Claws of Justice
Bruno moved like a shadow through the downpour, his massive muscular frame clearing the distance between the driveway and the warehouse in seconds.
Moretti's finger was tightening on the trigger when nine hundred pounds of bite force collided directly with his right shoulder!
The gun discharged harmlessly into the high ceiling as Moretti was smashed hard onto the damp concrete. Bruno pinned the syndicate boss to the floor, his massive jaws clamped firmly around Moretti’s forearm, growling with a deep, primal vibrato that shook the surrounding air.
"GET HIM OFF ME! GET HIM OFF!" Moretti shrieked in agony, his arrogance completely shattered.
Dante walked forward calmly, stopping right beside the thrashing man. He looked down at Moretti, then casually reached out his foot and kicked the fallen red ledger toward Gabe, who had rushed into the building behind the dog.
"Bruno. Down," Dante commanded softly.
The Cane Corso released his grip instantly, stepping back to sit proudly at Dante's heel, his ears back, his eyes fixed on Moretti.
SWAT officers swarmed the circle, pinning Moretti and his remaining enforcers to the ground in handcuffs. Among the sea of black tactical gear, Detective Miller—the lead investigator from the West Mercer fire—walked up to Dante, holding a pair of heavy rubberized evidence bags.
"We got the snipers on the roof, Vitali," Miller said, eyeing Bruno with newfound respect. "And we found three crates of remote ignition timers in the back of Moretti's boat."
"You'll find forty-two addresses inside that ledger, Detective," Dante said smoothly, gesturing toward Gabe, who handed over the red book. "Every one of those buildings has an illegal gas tap installed in the basement. I suggest you get fire marshals to those locations within the hour."
Miller took the book, opening the cover to inspect the neat, handwritten entries signed by Samuel Hayes. "If this holds up in court, Vitali... you just dismantled the largest arson ring in Midwest history."
"Don't thank me," Dante said, glancing over his shoulder as Emily hurried into the warehouse, her hair soaked with rain, her cheeks flushed. "Thank Miss Carter. She's the one who listened to the dog."
Emily stopped beside Dante, her breathing coming fast as she looked down at the handcuffed Moretti being dragged toward a police transport van. She looked up at Dante, seeing the rain dripping from his dark hair, highlighting the sharp, elegant lines of his face.
"Is it over?" she asked softly.
"For Moretti, yes," Dante said, reaching out to gently wipe a droplet of rain from her cheek with his thumb. His touch was warm against her cold skin, lingering for a sweet, breathless moment. "For the city... we have forty-two buildings to secure."
Two days later, the sun finally broke through the gray clouds over Chicago, bathing the city in warm afternoon light.
At the City Housing Department headquarters, Emily sat at her desk, surrounded by stacks of official clearance reports. The fire department had spent forty-eight hours inspecting all forty-two properties listed in Samuel Hayes's ledger. Every single illegal gas bypass had been safely disconnected, and Richard Vale had been arrested at O'Hare Airport trying to board a flight to Switzerland.
The door to her office opened, and Samuel Hayes shuffled inside, using a silver cane. He looked vastly better, his color returned, wearing a clean tweed jacket.
"Mr. Hayes!" Emily smiled, jumping up from her desk to help him into a chair. "You shouldn't be walking around so soon."
"Nonsense," Samuel huffed pleasantly, resting both hands on his cane. "The doctors said I have the lungs of a sixty-year-old now that I'm out of that smoke. I came to deliver this personally."
He placed a heavy blue folder onto her desk.
"What's this?" Emily asked, opening the cover.
"It's a deed of transfer," Samuel explained, his eyes twinkling. "Vital Meridian Holdings just purchased all forty-two properties from the city receivership. But Mr. Vitali didn't buy them to redevelop them into luxury condos."
Emily scanned the legal document, her eyes widening in astonishment. "He's transferring ownership of all forty-two buildings to a non-profit community housing trust... managed by me?"
"With a fifty-million-dollar renovation fund attached," Samuel added, beaming. "Every tenant on West Mercer is getting a brand-new, fully modernized apartment with guaranteed rent caps for twenty years."
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Emily stared at the document, her heart pounding against her ribs. She picked up her coat, grabbing her bag. "Where is he?"
"Last I checked," Samuel chuckled, "he was waiting downstairs in the plaza with a very large dog."
