Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF LOYALTY
"I am not running anywhere without you!" I screamed, wrapping my arms under Dante’s broad shoulders.
He was incredibly heavy, completely dead weight. "Clara... leave me. They’ll be coming."
"Shut up and lean on me!" I snapped, the adrenaline masking the sheer impossibility of what I was doing.
I hauled him to his feet. We stumbled out of the vault, past the dead men, up the marble stairs, and out into the blinding morning light. I shoved him into the passenger seat of the sedan, threw the car into gear, and sped away just as police sirens began to wail in the distance.
I didn't take him to a hospital. A gunshot wound would trigger a mandatory police report, and if the cartel had cops on their payroll, we would be sitting ducks.
Instead, I drove to the address Dante managed to choke out before he passed out—an unassuming veterinary clinic in Queens.
The "vet" was an older man named Doc Silva, a surgeon who had lost his license years ago but maintained his skills for the underworld. He didn't ask questions. He just hoisted Dante onto a stainless steel table and went to work.
I sat in the sterile waiting room for three agonizing hours. The smell of bleach and dog shampoo made me nauseous. My hands were covered in Dante’s and Tony’s blood.
To distract myself from the terror, I looked down at the blood-stained envelope Tony had forced into my hands before he died.
I carefully tore it open.
Inside was a cashier's check for fifty thousand dollars. And behind the check was a folded document.
It was a commercial lease agreement for a corner storefront in the West Village. The exact storefront I had walked past every day for two years, dreaming of opening my bakery. The lease was fully paid for two years. Under the tenant name, Tony had written: Clara Evans.
Tony hadn't just been paying off his debts. He had been secretly securing my future before the walls closed in on him.
I buried my face in my hands and wept until I had nothing left.
"He's awake."
I looked up. Doc Silva was wiping his hands on a towel. "Bullet passed clean through. Missed the kidney by an inch. He lost a lot of blood, but he’s too stubborn to die."
I rushed into the back room.
Dante was lying on a cot, his chest wrapped tightly in white bandages. He looked exhausted, pale, and incredibly vulnerable.
When he saw me, the tension in his face broke. He reached out his hand.
I took it, sitting on the edge of the cot. His grip was weak, but warm.
"You didn't run," Dante whispered.
"I told you," I said softly, brushing a lock of dark hair from his forehead. "I'm not Isabella. I don't run away."
Dante closed his eyes. "I decrypted the drive on my phone while Silva was stitching me up," he said, his voice rough. "It wasn't just a ledger. It was the cartel’s entire offshore banking network. Account numbers, passwords, routing paths. Isabella didn't just find out they infiltrated my business; she stole the keys to their entire empire. That’s why they poisoned her. That’s why they’ve been hunting Sophia."
"What do we do with it?"
Dante opened his eyes, looking at me with a profound, heartbreaking sadness.
"I sent the files anonymously to the FBI Cyber Division twenty minutes ago," Dante said. "By tonight, the cartel’s accounts will be frozen. Their leadership will be scrambling. The threat to my family is over."
"Dante, that's amazing! It's over."
"Yes," Dante said. He pulled his hand away from mine. "Which is why I've arranged for Marco to take you and Sophia to a private estate in Switzerland tomorrow morning."
I froze. "What?"
"I am dismantling my entire organization, Clara," Dante said, his voice turning cold and professional. "I am going legitimate. But the transition will be violent. The remaining bosses won't let me walk away easily. It isn't safe for Sophia here. And it isn't safe for you."
"You're sending me away?" I asked, the sting of rejection sharper than any bullet.
"I am paying you a severance of two million dollars," Dante said, staring at the ceiling, refusing to look at me. "You can open your bakery in Geneva. Sophia loves you. She needs a mother figure. I need to know she is safe."
"And what about you?" I demanded, standing up, anger flashing hot in my chest. "You just stay here and get yourself killed trying to clean up your father’s messes?"
"It is my burden, Clara."
"Bullshit," I spat.
Dante finally looked at me, stunned by my tone.
"You think protecting people means pushing them away," I said, my voice shaking with emotion. "You think you have to be this untouchable mafia king who suffers alone in the dark. Tony pushed me away to protect me, and he died on a marble floor. Isabella hid the truth to protect you, and she died in your kitchen. I am not leaving you, Dante!"
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the velvet box containing the flash drive, and threw it onto the cot beside him.
May you like
"I am taking Sophia home to the penthouse," I declared fiercely. "I am going to make her dinner. And when you are strong enough to walk, you are going to come home to your family. Because if you think you can just pay me off and shut me out after everything we've survived, you are the dumbest man in New York."
I turned on my heel and marched out of the clinic, leaving the most feared man in Manhattan completely speechless.
