Chapter 9 - Fire and Blood
When Elina opened her eyes, her head felt like it was being split open by an axe.
She was tied to a wooden chair inside a damp, rusted warehouse. The smell of salt water, diesel fuel, and rotting wood filled the air. Outside, the heavy roar of ocean waves crashed against giant wooden pilings.
They were at the abandoned docks at Pier 42.
Sitting on a rusty oil drum across from her was Marcus Vance, holding a glass of cheap whiskey, a revolver resting on his knee. Near the back door, two of his remaining hitmen stood watch.
And in a small plastic laundry basket near the corner, tied down with a soft rope, was Leo. He was crying hysterically, his face red, his tiny fists beating against the plastic sides.
"Leo!" Elina cried out, straining against the heavy ropes binding her wrists behind the chair. "Leo, baby, Mommy's here!"
Marcus laughed—a dry, bitter sound that echoed off the high corrugated metal walls.
"Save your breath, girl," Marcus sneered, standing up and walking toward her. "Dante Sterling destroyed my life tonight. He took my business, my money, my reputation. So I’m going to send him your body in a shipping container, and I’m taking his heir out of the country to raise him as my own tool."
"He’ll kill you, Marcus," Elina spat, her eyes burning with pure hatred. "He will hunt you to the ends of the earth!"
"He doesn't know where we are," Marcus smiled wickedly, raising his revolver and pointing it straight at her forehead. "And by the time he figures it out, you’ll be fish food."
BOOM.
The heavy steel doors of the warehouse didn't just open—they were blown completely off their hinges by a high-explosive breach charge!
A wave of fire, smoke, and flying metal tore through the front entry!
Before the smoke even cleared, a shadowy figure strode through the flames.
It was Dante.
He didn't wear his tuxedo coat anymore. His white shirt was soaked with rain and stained with blood, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the full fire-breathing dragon tattoo across his arms. He held a high-powered tactical shotgun in his right hand, his eyes burning with a murderous fury that looked completely unhuman.
Behind him stepped Marco and twenty armed Sterling enforcement units, locking down every exit.
"Dante!" Marcus gasped, dropping his whiskey glass in panic, grabbing Elina from behind and pressing the barrel of his revolver against her temple. "Stay back! Step one foot closer and I paint the wall with her brains!"
Dante stopped ten feet away. He didn't look at the gun. He didn't look at Marcus.
His dark eyes moved to Elina. He saw the bruises on her wrists, the tear stains on her cheeks, and then he looked at Leo crying in the basket.
"Marcus," Dante said, his voice dropping so low it sounded like gravel grinding in a gear. "You had a choice tonight. You could have taken your money and fled to South America."
"Shut up!" Marcus screamed, his hand trembling against Elina’s head. "Drop your weapons!"
"You touched my wife," Dante said quietly.
Elina’s heart skipped a beat. His wife.
"You touched my son," Dante continued, taking one slow, deliberate step forward, ignoring the revolver completely. "And in my world, there is no negotiation for that."
Before Marcus could pull the trigger, Elina acted.
Remembering everything Dante had taught her about survival, she threw her head backward with all her strength, slamming the crown of her skull directly into Marcus’s nose!
CRACK.
Marcus howled in pain, his grip slipping as blood spurted from his broken nose!
In that microsecond, Dante raised the shotgun and fired!
The shot blew the weapon clean out of Marcus’s hand, throwing him backward onto the wet concrete. Before the old man could crawl away, Dante was over him, driving his heavy tactical boot straight into Marcus’s chest, pinning him to the floor.
Dante didn't fire again. He looked down at the bleeding, weeping traitor beneath his foot.
"Marco," Dante said coldly, without looking back. "Put him in a container. Ship him to our associates in Siberia. Let him spend the rest of his short life in the dark."
"Yes, Boss," Marco replied, dragging Marcus away as the old man screamed for mercy.
Dante dropped the shotgun, instantly rushing over to Elina. He pulled a combat knife from his belt, slicing through the heavy ropes binding her hands in a single swift stroke.
The moment she was free, Elina threw her arms around Dante’s neck, burying her face into his wet collar, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I’m sorry... I'm so sorry..." she wept.
Dante wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his beating chest, pressing his face into her soft hair. "You have nothing to apologize for, my love. You were brilliant. You were so brave."
He pulled back gently, holding her face between his large, warm hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs.
Then, he turned and picked up Leo from the basket.
The moment the baby felt his parents' hands, his cries stopped. He snuggled into the space between Dante’s chest and Elina’s arm, clutching both of their shirts, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of pure safety.
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Dante looked down at Elina, his hazel eyes burning with an intense, unyielding devotion.
"No more hiding," Dante whispered, leaning down until his lips gently brushed hers in a warm, electric kiss. "No more running. You're home now, Elina."
