Chapter 7 - The Rescue and the Reckoning
Gunfire erupted across Warehouse 14 like a violent storm.
Dante moved with terrifying precision, firing his shotgun into the mercenary line, driving them back behind the steel crates. Tomas and the Valerio guards flanked the perimeter, cutting off every escape route.
Julian Moretti, panicking as his men fell around him, grabbed Rosie from behind, locking his arm around her neck and pressing his nickel-plated pistol against her temple.
"Stop firing or I blow her head off!" Julian screamed, his voice shrill with terror.
The gunfire instantly ceased.
Dante stopped ten feet away. He set his shotgun on the floor, raising his hands slowly, his dark eyes fixed entirely on Julian’s shaking gun.
"Put the gun down, Julian," Dante said, his voice unnervingly quiet. "Take me instead. Let her go."
"You think I'm stupid, Russo?" Julian spat, blood dripping from his nose. "You took everything from me! My docks, my respect! Now you're going to watch her die!"
Rosie felt the hot barrel of the gun against her skin. She looked at Dante. She saw the sheer, unadulterated agony in his eyes—a man who owned the city, completely helpless because he loved her.
He loves me, Rosie realized. And I won't let him die for me.
Driven by a surge of pure courage, Rosie did not try to pull away. Instead, she lifted her left leg and slammed her heavy carbon-fiber heel down with maximum force onto Julian’s instep.
The rigid carbon fiber crushed Julian’s foot bones instantly.
Julian let out a blood-curdling shriek of agony, his grip on her neck loosening as his body buckled.
In that split second, Dante lunged.
Dante seized Julian’s gun hand, twisting his wrist until the bones cracked loudly. The pistol dropped to the concrete floor.
Dante caught Julian by his throat, lifting the heavy man off his feet, and slammed him viciously onto the hood of the idling SUV.
"Please!" Julian choked out, weeping with pain. "Dante... mercy!"
"You threatened my wife," Dante whispered coldly into his ear. "There is no mercy in my world for rats."
Dante pulled a silver blade from his belt and drove it home with finality.
The threat to the Monongahela was over.
Dante turned around immediately, ignoring the dying man behind him. He rushed to Rosie, dropping to his knees on the cold concrete, gathering her tightly into his arms.
"Rosie... Rosie, are you hurt?" Dante begged, his hands trembling as he checked her face, her shoulders, her legs.
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"I'm fine, Dante," Rosie sobbed, burying her face into the warm, blood-stained crook of his neck, her arms wrapping tightly around his broad shoulders. "I'm fine... you came for me."
"I will always come for you," Dante whispered fiercely, burying his face in her dark chestnut hair, holding her as if he would never let her go again. "Always."
