Chapter 6 - The Viper in the Ranks
But light never exists in a world like Salvatore’s without drawing shadows.
By the second week, my presence at the Citadel had begun to raise whispers among the senior lieutenants of the Marquetti Syndicate.
While Viktor and the inner security detail accepted me completely—having seen the profound, positive change in their boss—others were deeply suspicious. To them, I was an outsider. A low-class waitress who had somehow cast a spell over the ruthless Salvatore Marquetti, softening him, making him accessible.
The leader of this discontent was a man named Dominic Vance—no relation to me, though the irony was bitter.
Dominic was thirty-eight, cold-eyed, and served as Salvatore’s chief financial officer. He was a man who lived in the numbers, managing the syndicate’s massive real estate portfolios and offshore accounts. He had been a loyal soldier to Salvatore’s father, and he viewed Salvatore’s recent focus on non-violent corporate expansion with deep contempt.
One afternoon, while Salvatore was in a closed-door meeting with his legal team on the lower floor, I was sitting in the penthouse library, going over a stack of architectural blueprints Leo had sent me.
The heavy glass doors of the library creaked open.
Dominic stepped inside.
He didn't wear a suit like Salvatore; he wore a sharp leather jacket over an unbuttoned shirt, his arms covered in dark, faded tattoos. His face was weathered, his eyes predatory and sharp.
"Miss Vance," he said, his voice a gravelly scrape. He didn't use sign language, of course. He spoke loudly, enunciating his words with exaggerated mock-clarity. "Or should I say, the new queen of Chicago?"
I closed Leo’s blueprint folder and sat up straight. "Mr. Vance. Is there something I can help you with?"
Dominic walked over to the desk, leaning his hands heavily on the polished mahogany surface, crowding my space.
"You're very clever, little girl," he sneered, leaning down until I could smell the stale espresso on his breath. "Finding the one hole in the armor. Figuring out that the big, bad boss has a broken ear."
My eyes narrowed into slits. "Watch your mouth, Dominic."
He chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. "Oh, don't get defensive. I admire the hustle. You went from wiping down tables for twenty dollars an hour to living in a forty-million-dollar penthouse in less than a month. That's a world-class scam."
"It's not a scam," I said, keeping my voice level despite the anger surging through my veins. "I care about him."
"Sure you do," Dominic mocked. "Everybody cares about Salvatore when he's writing twenty-thousand-dollar checks. But let me tell you something, Tessa. This world isn't a fairy tale. Salvatore thinks he can play corporate businessman now. He thinks he can turn his back on the old ways—on the muscle, the street control, the real power. And he's using you as his little distraction."
He reached out, his filthy fingers aiming to grab my chin.
Before he could touch me, a shadow fell over the room.
The door burst open with such force that the heavy brass handle slammed into the drywall.
Salvatore stood in the doorway.
His posture was terrifying. His chest was heaving, his face pale with absolute, murderous fury. Behind him, Viktor looked ready to draw his sidearm.
Salvatore didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
He moved across the room like a striking viper. Before Dominic could even turn around, Salvatore’s massive hand clamped onto the back of Dominic’s leather jacket collar, ripping him away from the desk and slamming him face-first into the library wall.
The sound of wood cracking echoed through the room.
Dominic gasped, his eyes wide with sudden terror as Salvatore pinned him with one forearm pressed against his throat, cutting off his air supply.
Salvatore’s face was inches from Dominic’s. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth—they were the cold, black eyes of a predator ready to snap a neck.
Slowly, using his free hand, Salvatore signed directly into Dominic’s face—sharp, violent movements that didn't require a translator to understand:
[TOUCH HER AGAIN AND I WILL FEED YOU TO THE LAKE.]
Dominic choked, nodding frantically, his face turning a dark, mottled red.
Salvatore held him there for three agonizing seconds, letting the fear sink deep into the man's soul, before shoving him away. Dominic crumpled to the floor, coughing violently, clutching his throat.
[GET OUT,] Salvatore signed to Viktor, gesturing toward Dominic.
Viktor grabbed Dominic by his lapels, hauling him off the floor like a sack of garbage, and dragged him screaming out of the penthouse.
The room fell silent once more.
Salvatore stood near the desk, his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths as he tried to regain control of his racing pulse.
I walked over to him softly. I didn't reach out immediately; I gave him space.
"Salvatore," I whispered.
He turned slowly. The rage in his face was already dissolving, replaced by an expression of deep, agonizing shame. He looked at his own massive hands, then at me, terrified that I would look at him with the same horror the rest of the world felt.
[I AM A MONSTER,] he signed, his fingers trembling slightly—the first time I had ever seen him shake. [THIS IS MY WORLD. IT IS BLOODY. IT IS UGLY. YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE.]
I stepped right into his space. I grabbed his large, trembling hands in mine and forced him to look at me.
May you like
[YOU PROTECTED ME,] I signed back, my eyes fierce and steady. [THAT DOES NOT MAKE YOU A MONSTER. THAT MAKES YOU MY MAN.]
Salvatore let out a shuddering breath, pulled me into his arms, and held me so tightly I could feel the thunderous beating of his heart against my cheek.
