Chapter 5 - The Gathering Storm
The underground war for Baltimore ignited before sunrise.
Within twenty-four hours of the incident at Happy Tails, three of Salvatore Moretti’s primary narcotics warehouses on the west side were raided, cleaned out, and burned to the ground. Shipping containers belonging to Moretti’s front companies were impounded at the federal customs gates, and his primary money-laundering associates in the financial district suddenly found their bank accounts frozen by federal audits engineered by anonymous, high-powered legal teams.
The underworld was in a state of absolute panic. Dante Valente was moving like a dark hurricane, systematically dismantling Moretti’s empire piece by piece.
Yet, despite the chaos consuming the city, Dante’s primary focus remained laser-focused on a two-story pet boutique in Fells Point.
Inside his fortified estate office late that night, Dante sat behind his mahogany desk reviewing intercepted wiretaps when Marco knocked and walked in.
“Boss, Moretti is cornered,” Marco reported, placing a tablet on the desk. “He’s lost seventy percent of his revenue streams in two days. Word on the street is that he’s getting desperate. He knows he can’t beat us in a direct financial or military war, so he’s looking for leverage.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed instantly, a cold shadow crossing his face. “What kind of leverage?”
“We intercepted a reconnaissance team watching Miss Parker’s apartment above the shop tonight,” Marco said grimly. “Moretti knows you’ve assigned plainclothes protection to her, but he also knows you can’t have twenty men inside her bedroom without raising alarms. He’s planning a snatch-and-grab.”
The air in the office grew suffocatingly heavy. Dante stood up so fast his leather chair crashed backward onto the Persian rug. The cold, calculating industrialist vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a ruthless predator whose territory had been threatened.
“Get the tactical response team ready,” Dante commanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “We’re moving her tonight.”
“To a safehouse?” Marco asked.
“No,” Dante said, sliding his custom holster under his jacket. “To my estate.”
Meanwhile, unaware of the storm gathering around her, Emily was closing up the shop for the evening. She had just finished feeding a litter of rescue kittens when the front door chime rang softly.
Expecting one of the plainclothes guards to drop off a status report, Emily unlocked the inner glass door and pulled it open.
May you like
Instead of a guard, two masked men lunged out of the shadows, slamming her back against the wall with a brutal, sickening thud. A heavy, chemical-soaked rag was clamped firmly over her mouth and nose before she could scream.
Her vision swam. The bright lights of the shop blurred into a spinning vortex of grey and black, and before her legs completely gave out, she felt strong arms lift her up, carrying her out into the cold night air.
