Chapter 2 - The Red-Handed Enforcer
Ten minutes later, the steam of the private hot spring was far behind us. Dante led me through a private stone corridor that connected directly to the resort's master lodge, bypassing the bustling lobby where guests were still laughing over wine and jazz.
We entered a private, wood-paneled study lit by a roaring stone fireplace. Marco stood by the heavy oak door, and beside him, looking violently out of place and terrified out of his mind, was Ray Miller.
Ray’s expensive leather jacket was unzipped, and his face was flushed. He had been intercepted by Moretti’s security before he could even reach the elevators.
"Dante—Mr. Moretti!" Ray stammered, his eyes darting frantically between Marco’s holster and Dante’s calm, unblinking expression. "There's been a mistake. I was just looking for my girlfriend—Clara here. She wandered off from our room."
"She wasn't in a room," Dante said, pouring a glass of amber whiskey and setting it down without looking at it. "She was asleep in my private mineral pool. Wearing my robe."
Ray swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "She gets confused. She's high-strung. I can take her home now—we'll just head back down the mountain—"
"You're not going anywhere, Ray," Dante interrupted smoothly. He sat down behind a massive mahogany desk, resting his forearms on the polished wood. "For three months, my regional logistics audits have shown a twenty percent discrepancy in labor kickbacks out of the Troy shipping yards. For three months, my managers told me it was just sloppy bookkeeping."
Dante leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto Ray like a predator sizing up a stray dog.
"Then tonight, one of my men ran the plates on your truck parked outside the west gate. And my guest here—who happens to work at the diner where you launder your loan shark slips—walked into my sanctuary with your fingerprints burned into her arm."
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Ray's bravado completely evaporated. He dropped to his knees, his voice cracking. "It's business, Mr. Moretti! Just union business! Everyone takes a cut!"
"Not on my mountain," Dante said. He flicked a finger toward Marco. "Take him down to the lower cellar. Have our accountants audit every dollar he’s stolen since 2024. And make sure he understands why stealing from my ports is a permanent mistake."
