Chapter 6 - THE BLEEDING KING
"Dante!"
Ivy scrambled across the concrete, leaving Lily huddled by the office door. She slid to her knees beside Dante’s massive frame. Blood was pooling beneath him, a terrifyingly dark, thick red.
"Hey. Hey, look at me," Ivy begged, pressing both of her hands hard against the bullet wound in his abdomen. The heat of his blood soaked through her bandages.
Dante’s eyes fluttered open. He gritted his teeth, a harsh groan escaping his lips as she applied pressure. "You need to... get out of here. Enzo... he’ll have heard the shot."
"I am not leaving you!" Ivy screamed, her voice cracking. "Lily, bring me the jacket! The heavy one!"
Lily, trembling but brave, dragged the Kevlar jacket over. Ivy bundled it up and pressed it violently against Dante’s wound.
"You're a stubborn woman, Florist," Dante choked out, coughing.
"And you're an idiot who jumped in front of a bullet for a stranger," Ivy fired back, tears blinding her. "Why did you do that?"
Dante reached up, his bloody hand gently touching her cheek, wiping a tear away. "Because for the first time in my life... I found something worth saving."
The sound of screeching tires broke the fragile moment.
Headlights swept across the pier. Three black SUVs tore through the gates, skidding to a halt near the containers.
Ivy’s heart plummeted. Enzo.
Doors slammed open. Heavily armed men poured out. But leading the pack wasn't Enzo Falcone.
It was an older man with silver hair, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. He walked with a silver-tipped cane.
Dante turned his head, his eyes widening in shock. "Uncle Vincent."
Vincent Russo, Dante’s estranged uncle, who had supposedly retired to Sicily ten years ago.
"Stand down," Vincent ordered his men. He walked over, surveying the bloody scene—Carlo knocked out, Sofia unconscious, and his nephew bleeding out on the ground, cradled by a terrified woman.
"You’re making a mess of my city, Dante," Vincent said, his voice smooth and cold.
"Vincent," Dante breathed. "You're supposed to be in Palermo."
"I came back for the wedding," Vincent said, pulling a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his mouth. "Imagine my surprise when I found my nephew running through the streets, while Enzo Falcone tore up the cathedral."
Vincent looked down at Ivy, his eyes calculating. "And who is this?"
"She’s nobody," Dante said instantly, trying to push himself up, shielding her. "Let her go, Vincent. This is syndicate business."
Vincent chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Nothing is just business, nephew. I know who she is. Rose Miller’s daughter. The Keeper of the ledger."
Ivy froze. How did Vincent know?
Vincent leaned in close, resting his weight on his cane. "You see, Dante, Carlo and Sofia weren't working alone. They needed someone with the authority to legitimize their coup. Someone to take the throne once you were dead."
Dante’s face hardened as the betrayal sank in. "You."
"I built this syndicate with your father!" Vincent snarled, his polite veneer shattering. "And he left it to a spoiled, arrogant child! I want the ledger, Dante. I want my money."
Vincent snapped his fingers. Two massive enforcers stepped forward, grabbing Ivy by her arms and hauling her to her feet. Another grabbed Lily.
"No! Leave her alone!" Ivy screamed, thrashing wildly.
"Give me the SD card, Ms. Miller," Vincent demanded softly. "Or I will have my men throw the child into the harbor."
Dante struggled to rise, but he was too weak. "Vincent, I swear to God—"
"Quiet, boy," Vincent snapped. He looked at Ivy. "Five seconds, florist. Five."
Ivy looked at Dante. He gave her a microscopic, desperate shake of his head. Don't do it. If she gave up the ledger, Vincent would kill them all anyway. They would outlive their usefulness.
"Four," Vincent counted.
Ivy’s mind raced. The flashbang. Dante had tossed one, but she had seen him pull two from the safe house. Where was the second one?
She looked down at Dante’s belt. The heavy silver pin of the second grenade was partially visible under his ruined shirt.
"Three."
Ivy stopped struggling. She looked Vincent dead in the eye and slumped her shoulders in defeat.
"Okay," she cried softly. "Okay, it’s in his pocket. Dante’s front pocket. Let me get it."
Vincent smiled a cruel, victorious smile. He nodded to his men, and they released her arms.
Ivy dropped to her knees beside Dante. She leaned over him, her hands fumbling toward his belt.
Dante looked at her in confusion, then realization dawned in his eyes.
May you like
Ivy didn't reach for his pocket. She grabbed the metal ring on his belt, yanked the pin, and shoved the live grenade under the heavy Kevlar jacket she had been using to stop his bleeding.
---
