Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT DANTE RUSSO LOST EVERYTHINGBy sunrise, Dante Russo no longer owned his own empire.
Carlo moved fast.
Accounts were frozen.
Warehouses changed hands.
Men who had sworn loyalty to Dante suddenly stopped answering.
News reports called it an internal restructuring of Russo Maritime Holdings.
Nobody mentioned gunfire.
Nobody mentioned Luca.
We hid in the last place anyone would expect.
My apartment.
Dante stared around the tiny kitchen.
“This is where you live?”
“Try not to sound traumatized.”
“Your refrigerator is making a noise.”
“It has character.”
“It needs an exorcism.”
For the first time in two days, I laughed.
Then Dante did too.
It lasted seconds.
But those seconds mattered.
Without his suits, guards and fortress, he looked different.
Still dangerous.
But human.
I found one of Dad's old shirts for him.
It barely fit.
“You look ridiculous.”
“You're enjoying this.”
“Enormously.”
His smile faded when he saw the framed photograph of Dad.
“I owe him my life.”
“So do I.”
Dante studied me.
“And now I owe you mine twice.”
“You can pay me back by surviving.”
His gaze remained on me.
“I intend to.”
My phone rang.
Monica.
I answered.
She was crying.
“Ellie, I'm sorry.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“They have me.”
A man's voice replaced hers.
Samuel Vale.
“Bring Thomas's evidence to Pier 19.”
Dante took the phone.
“If you hurt her—”
“Still pretending you're in charge?”
Samuel laughed.
“Midnight.”
The call ended.
“No,” Dante said immediately.
“She is my friend.”
“It's a trap.”
“Obviously.”
“And you're not going.”
“Also obviously wrong.”
We argued for twenty minutes.
Finally Dante slammed his palm against the counter.
“I cannot watch another person die because of me.”
I stared at him.
“Neither can I.”
Silence.
Then something in his expression broke.
“I have spent my entire life believing power meant preventing anyone from getting close enough to hurt me.”
He stepped toward me.
“And then a waitress I had known for fifteen minutes grabbed my hand under a table and decided my life mattered.”
My throat tightened.
“You didn't know who I was.”
“No.”
“You didn't want money.”
“No.”
“You were terrified.”
“Completely.”
“And you still did it.”
He touched my cheek.
Nobody had touched me that gently in years.
“I don't know what to do with you, Eleanor.”
“Maybe stop trying to control everything.”
“Impossible.”
“Try.”
His forehead rested against mine.
Then he kissed me.
There was nothing polished about it.
Nothing calculated.
It was quiet at first, almost uncertain, as though the most feared man in East Harbor was suddenly afraid of one ordinary woman stepping away.
I didn't.
When we separated, Dante's eyes remained closed for a second.
Then I whispered, “We still have to rescue Monica.”
He laughed softly.
“You really are impossible.”
We devised a plan.
At 11:57 p.m., I walked onto Pier 19 carrying Dad's steel box.
Alone.
Or apparently alone.
Samuel stood beneath a warehouse light.
Monica was tied to a chair.
Carlo stood beside her.
And behind them—
Luca.
Alive.
My relief lasted less than a second.
Because Luca was holding a gun.
And it was pointed directly at me.
“I'm sorry, Eleanor,” he said.
Carlo smiled.
“I told Dante loyalty was expensive.”
My heart sank.
Then Dante emerged from the shadows behind me.
“Let her go.”
Carlo laughed.
“You really did come.”
Dante's gaze went to Luca.
Pain crossed his face.
“You too?”
Luca lowered his eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
Then he raised the gun.
A shot exploded.
I flinched.
Carlo's smile disappeared.
Blood appeared across Samuel's shoulder.
Luca turned the weapon toward Carlo's men.
“Now, Dante!”
Everything erupted.
Dante's remaining loyal men stormed the warehouse from both entrances.
Luca had never betrayed him.
He had infiltrated Carlo's operation from inside.
Within minutes, Monica was free.
Samuel was captured.
But Carlo escaped through a loading door.
And he took something with him.
Dad's steel box.
Dante looked toward the departing car.
Then at me.
“We lost the evidence.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I reached beneath my coat.
The real drive was taped against my waist.
“What was in the box?”
“Copies.”
For several seconds Dante simply stared.
Then he laughed.
“Remind me never to underestimate a waitress.”
I looked toward the darkness where Carlo had disappeared.
“He still has Calder.”
May you like
Dante's smile vanished.
“And now they know we're coming.”
