Chapter 7 - GUNFIRE AND GLASS
The gala was held at the Plaza Hotel. Hundreds of made men, politicians, and socialites mingled, drinking champagne while hiding daggers behind their smiles. Damiano kept his hand firmly on the small of my back.
Midway through the evening, the lights flickered and died. Panic erupted.
"Sophia, stay behind me!" Damiano roared over the chaos.
Emergency lights kicked on, casting an eerie red glow. From the crowd, a man lunged at me with a serrated blade—it was one of Damiano’s own lieutenants, the mole. But he never reached me. Damiano moved with blinding speed, disarming the man and pinning him to the marble floor in a display of brutal, calculated violence.
"Who gave the order?" Damiano snarled, pressing the man's own knife to his throat.
May you like
"Rossi," the traitor choked out. "He's hitting the penthouse tonight. He wants the kid."
My blood ran cold. Emma.
