Chapter 4 - Shadows of the Past
Victor Krell didn't wait for Dante to reach the table. He stood up abruptly, his hands shaking so badly that his champagne glass shattered against the edge of the marble table.
"Moretti," Krell rasped, his eyes darting frantically toward his enforcers. "You... you shouldn't be here."
"It’s my city, Victor," Dante said smoothly, stopping two feet away. He pulled out a chair for Cassidy, who sat down gracefully, crossing her long legs, her slit dress revealing just enough of her toned leg to keep Krell’s guards completely distracted. "I go wherever I please."
"Your brother sold you out!" Krell sneered, trying to regain his composure, his voice dropping into a low growl. "The council knows you're weak, Dante! You're losing your grip on the docks!"
"My brother is currently sitting in a dark basement awaiting his execution," Dante said coldly. "And as for my grip on the docks... let’s ask your associate, shall we?"
Dante snapped his fingers.
From the service entrance, Leo Vance stepped out, accompanied by four Moretti enforcers hauling a tied-up, bloody man in a thousand-dollar suit. It was Krell’s chief financial officer.
The entire ballroom went dead silent. Corrupt politicians began slipping toward the exits, sensing the impending bloodbath.
"He gave us all your offshore accounts, Victor," Dante said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Your funding is gone. Your men haven't been paid. And in five minutes, the Federal Bureau of Investigation will receive an anonymous tip regarding the arms shipment sitting in your primary warehouse on 5th Street."
Krell’s face twisted into psychotic rage. "You son of a bitch!"
Krell reached for the pistol inside his jacket.
Before his fingers could even touch the leather holster, Cassidy moved.
With breathtaking speed, her hand shot across the table like a striking cobra. She grabbed Krell’s wrist, twisting it violently downward until a sharp CRACK echoed through the booth. Krell screamed in agony as his wrist broke.
In the same fluid motion, Cassidy kicked off her high heels, stood on the table, and launched herself toward the balcony.
She drew the carbon-fiber blade from her thigh strap, driving it through the hand of the balcony sniper just as he raised his suppressed weapon. She grabbed his tactical vest, pulled him over the railing, and threw him fifteen feet down into the VIP area, crashing directly into Krell’s remaining enforcers.
The ballroom erupted into mass panic. Guests screamed, scrambling for the exit doors.
Dante didn't even move from his spot. He stood calmly, pulled his customized gold-plated .45 caliber sidearm from his shoulder holster, and put a single round through the chest of Krell’s head enforcer as the man tried to draw his gun.
Ten seconds.
Exactly as she had promised, all eight of Krell’s security men were neutralized, lying groaning or motionless on the floor.
Cassidy landed smoothly back on her feet beside Dante, her emerald silk dress barely wrinkled, her breathing completely steady.
Dante looked at Krell, who was weeping on his knees, clutching his broken wrist.
"Who told you to hit the diner, Victor?" Dante demanded, pressing the cold barrel of his weapon against Krell’s forehead. "Gabriel didn't have the brains to coordinate this. Who paid you?"
Krell sobbed, his eyes wide with pure terror. "It... it was the Agency! Blackwood! Colonel Blackwood from the Department of Defense! He said... he said the girl was hiding in Chicago! He paid me ten million to burn the diner and bring her back alive!"
Cassidy froze.
The name hit her like a physical blow. Her face went deathly pale, her blue eyes dilating with an old, terrifying nightmare she had spent ten years running from.
"Blackwood..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring in her ears.
Dante caught the sudden change in her. He lowered his weapon slightly, looking at her with deep concern. "Cassidy? Who is Blackwood?"
"He was my commander," Cassidy whispered, her fists clenching so hard her nails drew tiny specs of blood on her palms. "Ten years ago... I wasn't a waitress. I was Captain Elena Sterling. Lead operative for the CIA’s Special Activities Division."
Dante’s eyes widened in profound shock.
"Blackwood went rogue," Cassidy continued, her voice trembling with a decade of buried pain. "He sold out my entire team to international arms syndicates. They ambushed us in Kandahar. I was the only survivor. I spent two years crawling out of the dark, changed my identity, and buried Elena Sterling in a grave."
She looked up at Dante, tears pricking her sharp blue eyes. "He didn't want to kill you, Dante. He wanted me. You almost died tonight because of my past."
Dante looked at her—at the pain, the betrayal, and the fierce, unyielding soul beneath the operative's exterior.
He didn't pull away. He didn't yell.
Instead, Dante turned to Victor Krell, pulled the trigger once, ending the rival mob boss instantly, and then pulled his weapon back into his holster.
May you like
He turned to Cassidy, taking her face in both of his massive, warm hands, pulling her tight against his chest in front of the entire ruined ballroom.
"Then Colonel Blackwood made the worst mistake of his life," Dante growled into her hair, his voice vibrating with absolute, terrifying devotion. "Because he just brought his war to Chicago. And I will burn the world to ashes before I let him touch you."
