Chapter 8 - The Executioner’s Mercy
The gunshot echoed sharply off the oak-paneled walls.
Marco collapsed onto the rug, dead before his body fully settled.
I gasped, taking a step back, covering my mouth with my hands. I had seen death in the trauma bay, but I had never seen execution performed with such cold, terrifying efficiency.
Daniel lowered the gun. He didn't look at the body on the floor. He looked straight at me, his eyes dark, intense, and completely unreadable.
"Gabriel!" Daniel called out.
The chief of his secondary guard detail stepped into the room instantly, bowing his head. "Boss?"
"Take Tommy Jenkins out of the cellar," Daniel ordered. "Give him five thousand dollars from Marco's safe. Put him on a bus to Denver. If he ever steps foot in Chicago again, shoot him."
I let out a long, ragged breath, relief washing over me so hard my knees wobbled. "Daniel... thank you."
"His debt is cleared," Daniel said, walking over to me, stepping right past Marco's body as if it were a piece of trash. "Your family is safe, Clara. Your brother lives."
He stopped inches from me, reaching out to cup my face in his large, warm hand. His thumb traced my lower lip, his dark eyes searching my soul.
"And now," Daniel whispered rasply, "we talk about you."
"My contract is fulfilled," I rasped, my heart hammering against my chest. "Tommy is safe. Leo is stable. I... I should go back to my life."
Daniel’s grip on my face tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to hold me hostage to his gaze.
"You have no life out there, Clara," Daniel said softly, his voice full of a possessive, consuming warmth. "You have a tiny apartment, a hospital job that works you to the bone, and a city full of snakes who tried to kill your family. Here... you have a home. You have my protection. You have my son."
"And what do I have with you?" I whispered, tears burning my eyes.
Daniel leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, his hot breath wrapping around my senses.
"You have everything I own," Daniel promised, his voice cracking with a fierce, absolute devotion. "My money. My power. My life. Ask me for the moon, Clara, and I will burn Chicago to the ground to hand it to you on a silver plate. Just don't ask me to let you go."
I looked into the eyes of the most feared man in the city—the man who had executed a traitor five seconds ago, but who now looked at me like I was his entire world.
"I'm not leaving Leo," I whispered softly.
May you like
Daniel closed his eyes, a deep, shuddering sigh tearing through his lungs. He slid his hand from my jaw down to the back of my waist, pulling me tight against his solid frame, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
"Good," Daniel growled into my skin, kissing the sensitive pulse point at my throat. "Because I was never going to let you walk out that door."
