Chapter 3 - Poison in the Glass
Dante’s face transformed into an expression of raw, apocalyptic fury.
“Lock down the main gate!” Dante roared into the comms. “Deploy the spike strips on the north driveway!”
“Too late, boss!” Silas shouted over the static sound of screeching tires and distant engine roars. “He rammed the secondary security checkpoint at sixty miles an hour! He’s gone! And Dante... he downloaded the complete personnel roster and location logs for the Lake Forest property!”
Dante cut the transmission. He didn't waste a second. He turned toward the guest wing doors, his mind calculating every variable in a split second.
“He’s going straight to Salvatore Moretti,” Dante said, his voice frighteningly quiet. “Lorenzo wasn't just my underboss. He was Moretti’s mole inside my organization for the last three years.”
“Why now?” I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Why would he burn his cover tonight?”
“Because he saw the children,” Dante spat, turning back toward the stairs. “Ruth Foster was the last witness who knew where Moretti buried the stolen port funds twelve years ago. Moretti believed that when Ruth died, the location of those funds died with her. But when Lorenzo saw six kids who were raised by Ruth, he realized one of them might know where the key is hidden.”
A chill ran down my spine.
The key.
I remembered the small, silver heart-shaped locket that Ruth had placed around seven-year-old Lily’s neck just hours before she took her last breath. Ruth had told Lily never to take it off, no matter what happened. I had assumed it was just a keepsake.
“Lily,” I whispered.
Dante caught my arm, his grip firm and steady. “What about Lily?”
“Ruth gave her a metal locket before she died,” I said, my voice rising in panic. “She said it was the most important thing in the world!”
Before Dante could answer, a high-pitched cry rang out from the end of the hall.
We ran down the corridor and pushed open the door to Tommy’s room. Dr. Mercer, the private physician Dante had called, was standing over Tommy’s bed, holding an IV drip bag. Tommy was writhing under the sheets, his face flushed with a terrifyingly high fever, his breathing shallow and rattling.
“What’s happening to him?” I cried, rushing to the side of the bed and taking Tommy’s burning hand in mine.
“His throat is closing up!” Dr. Mercer said, her hands shaking as she checked the monitor. “It’s an acute anaphylactic reaction! Did he eat anything?”
“No!” I shouted. “He only drank the water from the nightstand!”
Dante lunged forward, grabbing the glass tumbler resting on the side table. He brought it to his nose, sniffing the faint residue at the bottom. His eyes narrowed into slits.
“Aconite,” Dante hissed. “Monkshood poison. It was smeared on the rim of the glass.”
My stomach dropped into a fathomless void. Lorenzo hadn't just downloaded the files before he fled—he had poisoned a five-year-old boy on his way out the door to create a distraction and slow us down.
“He needs an epinephrine injection and an airway clearance immediately!” Dr. Mercer yelled, grabbing her medical bag. She pulled out an Auto-Injector, but her hands were trembling so violently from fear that she dropped the cap.
“Give it to me!” Dante commanded.
He grabbed the injector from the doctor’s hands. The ruthless mob boss knelt beside the bed, his broad hands surprisingly steady as he located the muscle on Tommy’s outer thigh.
“Hold him, Olivia,” Dante said calmly.
I held Tommy’s small shoulders against the mattress. Dante slammed the injector into the boy’s leg, holding it firmly for three long seconds.
For ten agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Tommy gasped for air, his eyes rolling back.
“Come on, kid,” Dante growled, his voice breaking with desperation. “Fight it! Stay with me!”
Tommy suddenly shuddered violently. He took a deep, gasping breath, the airway opening as the medication took hold. The color slowly returned to his cheeks, his breathing evening out into a heavy, exhausted rhythm.
I collapsed against the side of the bed, sobbing uncontrollably, buried my face in my hands.
Dante stood up slowly. He looked down at the empty glass in his hand, then crushed it in his bare fist. The thick crystal shattered, glass shards digging into his palm, blood dripping onto the carpet. He didn't even flinch.
He stepped over to me, wrapping his uninjured arm around my shoulders and pulling me up from the floor. He pulled me against his chest, holding me so tightly I could feel the thunderous beat of his heart against my cheek.
“He’s going to live, Olivia,” Dante whispered into my hair, his touch fiercely protective. “I swear to you, he’s going to live.”
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“They tried to kill a child, Dante,” I sobbed against his shirt, gripping his waist. “They’re going to come for all of them!”
“They can try,” Dante said, his voice dropping into an icy abyss of absolute malice. “Silas! Call up every captain loyal to the Calvetti name. Arm the perimeter with heavy artillery. We are going to war.”
