Chapter 6 - Blood and Truth
Dante’s hitmen looked around the room, realizing in two seconds flat that they were completely surrounded, outgunned, and trapped in a killing box.
One by one, they dropped their assault rifles onto the thick carpet.
Dante didn't drop his gun. His hand was shaking violently, the barrel of his pistol bouncing between Roman’s chest and mine.
"You ruined everything!" Dante spat, tears of rage mixing with the blood on his cheek. "Fifteen years I stood in your shadow, Roman! I did the dirty work! I handled the bodies! I built your empire while you sat in your high tower playing god!"
"I gave you everything, Dante," Roman said, stepping out from behind his desk, walking slowly toward his former friend. He didn't care about the gun pointed at his chest. "I made you a wealthy man. I gave you power. I gave you my trust."
"You were going to hand the syndicate over to the council!" Dante shrieked. "You were going to soft-line us! You were talking about legitimate investments, green energy, real estate! We are wolves, Roman! We don't eat grass!"
"You're not a wolf, Dante," Roman said, stopping three feet from the barrel of Dante's gun. "You're a rat eating scraps off my table."
Dante’s finger tightened on the trigger. "Die, you bastard—"
BANG!
A single gunshot echoed through the library.
Dante’s eyes widened in disbelief. He dropped his gun, his hands flying to his throat as a dark red stain spread across his crisp white collar. He stumbled backward, his knees buckling, before crashing hard onto the marble hearth in front of the cold fireplace.
Behind him stood Clara.
I was holding a heavy bronze statuette I had grabbed off the bookshelf, my breathing ragged, my hands shaking so hard I could barely stand. I hadn't shot him—Viktor had, from the corner—but I had stepped into Dante’s blind spot, ready to smash his head if he squeezed that trigger.
Roman turned his head, looking at me standing there in the dim light, my face pale, my eyes wide with a strange mix of terror and fierce defiance.
A dark, genuine smile touched Roman’s lips.
"Good instinct, Clara," Roman murmured softly.
He walked over to Dante’s twitching body, looked down at his former second-in-command for one final second, and turned to the three Syndicate captains who were still cowering near the desk.
"Clean this up," Roman ordered Viktor. He pointed at the three captains. "Take them to the board room. Tell them the summit starts now."
Ten minutes later, the body was gone, the floor was wiped clean, and the estate had returned to its quiet, vigilant peace.
I ran upstairs to the bedroom, throwing the door open to check on Lily.
She was wide awake, sitting up in the massive bed, holding her worn teddy bear. She looked up at me with big, curious green eyes.
"Mommy?" Lily asked softly. "Was that thunder?"
I rushed over to the bed, pulling her into my arms, burying my face in her warm hair, sobbing quietly with relief. "Yes, baby. Just a loud storm. It’s over now. It’s all over."
"Where is the big man?" Lily asked, looking past my shoulder toward the door. "The one with the warm chest?"
Before I could answer, Roman stepped into the doorway.
He had taken off his jacket, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the dark tattoos covering his forearms. He didn't look like a lethal mob boss right now. He looked like a man carrying the weight of a world he was tired of building.
He walked into the room, stopping near the edge of the bed.
"Is she alright?" Roman asked, looking down at Lily.
"She’s fine," I said, wiping my face with my sleeve. "Her fever is completely gone."
Lily reached out her tiny hand, tugging on the cuff of Roman’s shirt. "Thank you for the fluffy bed, Mr. Roman."
Roman looked down at her tiny fingers touching his linen shirt. He slowly crouched down beside the bed, bringing his large, imposing frame down to her eye level.
"You saved my life, little one," Roman said softly, his voice devoid of any edge. "A fluffy bed is the least I can do."
I looked between the two of them—the innocent child who knew nothing of blood and empires, and the dark king who had just executed his best friend.
"Roman," I whispered. "Now that Dante is gone... we should leave. You don't need us here anymore. We’ll just get in your way."
Roman stood up slowly, his dark eyes fixing on mine with a fierce, absolute intensity that made my breath hitch in my throat.
"You know too much, Clara," Roman said softly. "My enemies know you exist. And more importantly..."
May you like
He took a step closer, reaching out to gently brush a dark strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering against my cheekbone.
"I am never letting you go back to the cold," he whispered.
