Chapter 3 - THE RAT IN THE TRAP
Chaos erupted outside the private office as Grant Mercer’s deep roar echoed through the elegant dining hall. Mara sprinted out behind Dante, her heart hammering against her ribs. The sophisticated atmosphere of Bellamy House was completely shattered; upturned mahogany chairs cluttered the floor, and expensive wine bottles lay smashed against the imported tile.
In the center of the room, two of Dante’s armed guards were pinning a struggling man against the wall. The man’s expensive tailored suit was torn at the shoulder, revealing a silver cuff glinting under the crystal chandeliers.
And right there, catching the light against the dark fabric, was a deep, iridescent emerald gemstone.
Lorenzo Vale stood a few paces away, his hands folded neatly behind his back, his silver hair unruffled. He looked down at the struggling captive with an expression of profound disappointment, as if watching a clumsy child drop a toy.
“Let me go!” the captive screamed, his voice cracking with sheer panic. “You can’t do this! I demand my lawyer!”
“You’re looking at him,” Lorenzo said smoothly, stepping closer to the pinned man. “Though I suspect my services will be rather brief for you today, Julian.”
Dante walked into the center of the room, parting his guards like a parting wave. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. He didn't shout. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply stared at the man with a terrifying stillness that made Julian stop thrashing immediately.
“Julian Cross,” Dante murmured, tasting the name like a foul medicine. “My chief financial officer. The man who handles my portfolio, who sits at my table, who watched my daughter blow out her birthday candles three nights early because we had a quiet celebration scheduled.”
“Boss, I swear to God, I didn't mean—” Julian choked out, his knees buckling as the guards gripped him tighter. “It was business! The syndicate out of Milwaukee, they pressured me! They said if I didn't send a message, my debts would—ah!”
Julian’s excuse was cut short as Dante’s fist slammed into his jaw with bone-crushing force. The impact echoed off the walls, sending Julian slumping sideways into the arms of the guards, blood pooling instantly at the corner of his mouth.
“You poisoned a six-year-old child over ledger sheet debts?” Dante’s voice was barely a whisper, vibrating with a rage so pure it terrified everyone in the room. “You coward.”
“It was a sedative!” Julian wept, spitting blood onto the pristine floor. “Just a heavy paralytic! Enough to put her out so you’d be distracted during the board transfer tomorrow! I didn't want to kill her!”
“Intent matters very little when the poison touches the cup,” Lorenzo observed coolly, adjusting his cuffs. “Isn't that right, Dante?”
Mara watched from the edge of the room, a cold sweat breaking out across her skin. She had wanted a better life, a way out of living paycheck to paycheck, but standing here in the wreckage of an elite restaurant surrounded by mob enforcers, she realized the price of admission to this world was blood.
Dante turned slowly, his eyes finding Mara standing by the doorway. The raw fury in his expression softened just a fraction as he looked at her, remembering that if not for her keen eyes, his daughter would right now be lifeless on a mortuary slab.
“Mercer,” Dante commanded, wiping a trace of blood from his knuckles with a silk handkerchief. “Take Julian to the warehouse on 4th Street. Lock him in the deep freezer until I decide whether to feed him to the fishes or let Lorenzo sue him into a pauper.”
“Consider it done, Boss,” Mercer grunted, hauling the sobbing accountant up by his collar and dragging him toward the service exit.
The restaurant fell silent once more, save for the hum of the ventilation system. Dante walked over to Mara, stopping just a foot away. The air around him smelled of expensive cologne, gun oil, and old danger.
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“You see what my world is like, Mara,” Dante said quietly, his gaze piercing. “It’s violent. It’s dirty. And it never stops hunting. Are you still sure you want a piece of it?”
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