Chapter 5 - The Price of LoyaltyThe retaliation came sooner than expected, but not in the way anyone had predicted.
At two o'clock on Sunday morning, the fire alarms at the Palisades estate didn't sound. The thermal cameras didn't trigger. The perimeter sensors remained silent.
The threat came from inside.
I was lying awake in my fourth-floor suite, listening to the rain beat against the glass, when the quiet click of my bedroom door lock turning echoed through the dark room.
I sat up instantly, pulling the silk robe over my shoulders. "Dante?"
A shadow detached itself from the doorway.
It wasn't Dante. It was Dr. Mercer.
She was wearing her standard medical scrubs, but she didn't have her smile or her gentle eyes. In her right hand, she held a small stainless-steel syringe filled with a clear, colorless liquid.
"Don't scream, Elena," Dr. Mercer said, her voice completely flat, devoid of emotion. "The hallway guards have been given a mild paralytic in their coffee. They will be asleep for another twenty minutes."
My blood ran cold. I backed up toward the headboard, my hands searching blindly for anything I could use as a weapon. "Dr. Mercer... what are you doing?"
"I’ve worked for the Moretti family for fifteen years," Mercer said softly, taking a slow step toward the bed. "Dante paid for my daughter's medical school. He bought my house in Vermont. He treated me like family."
"Then why?" I whispered, my fingers closing around a heavy brass desk lamp resting on the nightstand.
"Because Julian Ross holds my grandson," Mercer said, tears finally brimming in her eyes, though her hands remained terrifyingly steady. "Ross’s men took the boy from his daycare in New Jersey six hours ago. They told me if I don't administer thirty milligrams of potassium chloride into your IV line tonight... they will send him back to me in a box."
My chest heaved. I looked at the woman who had spent four days gently tending to my wounds, now turned into an executioner by a desperate, dying monster.
"Mercer," I pleaded softly. "Dante can rescue your grandson. You know what he can do! If you kill me, Ross will kill the boy anyway! Men like him don't leave witnesses!"
Mercer paused, her hand trembling slightly as she looked at the syringe. "You don't understand... Ross has people inside the federal marshals! He has access to—"
The bathroom door exploded open.
Dante didn't fire a gun. He stepped out of the shadows behind the linen closet, where he had been waiting in complete silence for three hours.
Before Mercer could even turn her head, Dante caught her wrist, twisting it sharply until the syringe tumbled onto the thick rug. He slammed her back against the wall, his broad hand securing her throat, his face a terrifying mask of dark, absolute fury.
"Where is the boy, Mercer?" Dante hissed, his voice like grinding stones.
Mercer wept openly now, her hands clawing at his iron grip. "A... a warehouse in Newark... Pier 14... please, Dante... please don't hurt him... he's only four..."
Dante stared at her for three long, agonizing seconds. The anger in his eyes was blinding, but behind it lay something deeper—a dark, calculated resolve.
He released her throat, letting her slump to the floor.
"Marcus!" Dante called out.
Marcus stepped through the broken doorway, holding a silenced pistol, his face pale from the residual effects of the sedative in his coffee, but his eyes fully alert.
"Take Dr. Mercer to the safe house," Dante commanded. "Lock her in the basement. If she tries to move, break her knees."
"And the boy, boss?" Marcus asked.
Dante reached into his belt and pulled out a heavy black 9mm pistol, checking the magazine with a sharp, professional flick of his wrist.
"We go to Newark," Dante said coldly. "And we end Julian Ross once and for all."
"I'm coming with you," I said, swinging my legs off the bed and standing up.
Dante turned to me, his dark eyes flashing with immediate denial. "No. You stay here under heavy guard."
"I am not staying here!" I shouted, stepping up to him until my chest bumped his. "Ross used my father! He used me! He used Dr. Mercer’s grandson! If you think I’m going to sit in this luxury bedroom while you fight my war, you don't know me at all, Dante Moretti!"
Dante stared at me, his breath coming in fast, heavy chest rises. The silence between us stretched until the tension in the room reached a breaking point.
May you like
Then, a low, quiet chuckle escaped his lips—a dark, dangerous sound that sent shivers down my spine.
"You really are a stubborn creature, Elena Vance," Dante whispered. He reached out, his long fingers cupping the back of my neck and pulling me toward him until our foreheads touched. "Put on your boots. And take a vest from the armory."
