Chapter 6 - The Lion’s Wrath
The rain turned into a torrential downpour by 4:45 AM.
A convoy of four black armored SUVs tore through the slick streets of the city, tires hissing against the asphalt. In the center vehicle, Liana sat secured in the reinforced rear seat. She wore a heavy cashmere coat Matteo had ordered his staff to bring from the master suite, wrapped securely around herself and Nico.
Nico was awake now. But he wasn't screaming.
He was nestled securely against Liana’s chest, chewing softly on the edge of a clean cotton blanket, his large, luminous hazel eyes shifting curiously between Liana’s face and Matteo’s grim silhouette across from them.
Matteo sat checking the slide of a matte-black Sig Sauer P226. He chambered a round with a crisp, metallic *clack*, engaged the safety, and holstered it beneath his dark coat.
Liana watched his hands. They were large, powerful hands that had handled weapons and millions of dollars, yet she remembered how gently those same fingers had checked Nico’s collar in the foyer.
“Are you going to kill them?” Liana asked quietly.
Matteo looked up. The interior lights of the SUV cast sharp angles across his high cheekbones.
“Death is too easy, Liana,” Matteo replied, his voice low and unyielding. “Death is an escape. Marcus Valenti and Vance Sterling stole nine months of your son’s life. They made you bury a box of sand. They poisoned an infant with sedatives to protect an inheritance.” He leaned forward slightly. “They will live long enough to watch every asset, every title, every medical license, and every dollar they possess turn to ash. And then they will spend the next forty years in a concrete box where the sun doesn't shine.”
The convoy swerved sharply, turning into the underground ambulance bay of St. Sebastian’s Private Surgical Hospital.
Before the vehicles had fully stopped, Matteo’s men were out. Ten operatives in tactical gear secured the entryways, disarming the private hospital security before an alarm could be sounded.
The rear door of Matteo’s SUV opened. Leo stood outside, holding an enormous black umbrella against the storm.
“Boss,” Leo reported briskly. “Sterling is on the fifth floor. His personal executive suite. Marcus Valenti arrived ten minutes ago. They know the house staff went dark. They’re shredding paper records right now.”
Matteo stepped out into the damp chill. He turned and offered his hand to Liana.
She hesitated for a split second. Then, holding Nico securely with her left arm, she placed her right hand in Matteo’s. His grip was warm, solid, and utterly grounding. He helped her down to the dry concrete of the bay.
“Stay between Leo and me,” Matteo instructed, his tone brooking no argument. “Gabriel is right behind us. You don't leave my sight.”
“I’m not letting him go anyway,” Liana said, her chin lifted high.
Matteo looked down at her. In her eyes, he didn't see a terrified maid from the slums. He saw a lioness who had walked through hell to claim her cub. A slow, dark respect flashed across his features.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s go take what’s ours.”
They moved through the private elevator bank, bypassing the main hospital concourse. The private keycard in Leo’s hand overridden the system, rocketing them directly to the executive fifth floor.
When the elevator doors dinged open, the scent of expensive floor wax and burning paper was immediately apparent.
Two private security guards hired by the Valentis stood outside the double mahogany doors of the Chief of Obstetrics suite. Before either guard could reach for their holstered tasers, Dante and Leo were on them. Two swift, brutal blows to the solar plexus, and both men were on the floor, groaning in the shadows.
Matteo didn't knock.
He kicked the double doors open with the heel of his Italian leather boot.
The heavy wood rebounded off the inner walls with the force of a gunshot. Inside the luxurious corner office, two men jumped back in absolute terror.
Dr. Vance Sterling—a sixty-year-old man in an immaculate white coat—dropped a stack of manila folders onto the floor.
Marcus Valenti, thirty-four, impeccably groomed in a bespoke three-piece gray suit, stood near an industrial shredder. His face instantly drained of every drop of blood.
“Matteo,” Marcus stammered, raising his hands in a frantic gesture of peace. “Matteo, wait! What is the meaning of this? Why are you armed? This is a hospital!”
Matteo walked into the room slowly, hands resting loosely in the pockets of his dark coat. Behind him, Liana stepped into the threshold, the baby bundled safely in her arms.
Dr. Sterling’s gaze dropped to Liana. His eyes widened into round saucers of horror.
“You...” Sterling whispered, choking on his own spit. “Ms. Graves?”
“You recognize her, Doctor?” Matteo asked smoothly, his voice dropping into that chilling, conversational cadence. “That’s impressive. Considering you told her twenty-two days ago that her baby was incinerated in your furnace.”
Marcus Valenti backed toward the window, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Matteo... listen to me. Whatever she told you, she’s mentally unstable! She was a clinic patient! She suffered from postpartum psychosis! She’s hallucinating!”
“Is she?” Matteo asked softly.
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He didn't yell. He didn't draw his weapon. He simply reached out, took Marcus by the throat, and slammed him against the glass window overlooking the rainy city below.
***
