Chapter 4 - Blood in the HarborThe storm outside had escalated from a steady drizzle to a violent coastal squall, lashing the waterfront estate with sheets of freezing rain and howling wind.
Dante didn't flinch. The casual, almost conversational demeanor he had worn moments before vanished instantly, replaced by the lethal stillness of an Apex predator sensing an intrusion on its territory. His eyes darkened into black glass.
"How many men?" Dante asked, his voice chillingly calm.
"Four vehicles," Vance replied, stepping fully into the study. "Heavy hitters. Not local muscle—mercenaries from the Philadelphia outfit Julian’s been courting behind your back. They’ve breached the outer gate sensor on the east access road."
Titan lifted his massive head from the rug. A low, vibrating growl rumbled in his throat—not the defensive snarl I had heard in the basement, but the deep, resonant war cry of a battle-hardened war dog scenting blood.
I stepped back instinctively, pressing my spine against the edge of the mahogany bookshelf. "What's happening? Dante—Mr. Caruso—"
Dante turned his head, looking over his shoulder at me. Despite the chaos unfolding outside, his expression when he looked at me was terrifyingly focused.
"Vance," Dante commanded, not breaking eye contact with me. "Take Rosalie down to the safe room beneath the wine cellar. Lock the blast doors."
"No," I said, my voice cutting sharply through the room.
Dante paused. "This isn't a debate, Rosalie."
"I am not hiding in a cellar while people try to shoot their way into this house," I fired back, adrenaline surging through my veins, pushing past the terror. "You said I’m part of your perimeter now? Fine. But if Julian’s men get inside, they’re going to tear this place apart—and that includes the medical supplies I need to keep Titan’s shoulder from getting infected. I’m staying right here."
Dante stared at me for a beat, a dark, dangerous flash of approval flickering in his eyes.
"Vance," Dante said, his lips curling into a lethal smile. "Get the tactical gear from the armory. And release the hounds in the north courtyard."
"All of them, boss?" Vance asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Every single one."
Within minutes, the sprawling mansion transformed from an opulent estate into an armed fortress. Heavy steel security shutters slammed down over the ground-floor windows, plunging the hallways into a dim, amber-lit emergency glow. The sound of muffled shouting echoed faintly from the courtyard below, followed by the sharp, terrifying crack of a silenced pistol.
I stood beside Dante’s desk, clutching a heavy stainless-steel medical kit I had scavenged from the third-floor dispensary. Titan stood right beside my hip, his massive body tense as a coiled steel spring, his good ear flicking toward every sound in the corridor.
"Are you scared, Rosalie?" Dante asked softly, standing beside me. He was checking the magazine of a matte-black Sig Sauer pistol with practiced, mechanical efficiency.
"Terrified," I admitted honestly, my hands gripping the handle of the medical case so tightly my knuckles turned white. "I'm a vet tech who fixes broken paws and treats ear infections. I didn't sign up for a mob war."
"You didn't sign up for it," Dante agreed, sliding the magazine home with a sharp clack. "You were dragged into it because the world is full of predatory cowards like Henderson and Julian who think the innocent are just collateral damage. But let me tell you something, Rosalie..."
He reached out, his warm hand wrapping firmly around my cold wrist, guiding my fingers away from the metal case and holding them against his chest. I could feel the violent, rhythmic pounding of his heart beneath his black shirt.
May you like
"...in this house, nobody touches what is mine."
Before I could process the heat of his skin or the dizzying implication of his words, the heavy double doors of the study exploded inward in a shower of splintered oak and smoke.
