Chapter 6 - THE SHATTERED ALLIANCE
The silenced gunshot cracked like a whip inside the small study.
The intruder spun around, dropping his weapon as he collapsed heavily onto the Persian rug, blood pooling rapidly beneath his dark tactical vest.
Dante didn't flinch.
He stepped over the body, his eyes locked entirely on me.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, dropping to one knee beside me.
“I... I’m fine,” I gasped, my hands trembling as I clutched my bruised arm. “Who were they? I thought you controlled the security here.”
“I do,” Dante muttered, pulling me up into his arms with surprising gentleness. “Which means there’s a leak inside my own inner circle. Someone let an assassination squad into the gala.”
Downstairs, the elegant sounds of a high-society fundraiser had devolved into absolute panic.
Screams echoed through the soaring atrium.
Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the heavy Chicago fog outside.
Dante swept me up against his chest, carrying me effortlessly toward a private panic room concealed behind one of the heavy mahogany bookshelves.
“Dante, we can’t just hide!” I protested, grabbing his lapel. “My mother—she’s still at her apartment across town! If Richard Bennett’s men know who I am, they’ll go after her!”
Dante punched a digital code into the biometric wall scanner.
The heavy steel bookcase hissed and swung inward, revealing a high-tech control room glowing with monitors and weapon racks.
“Your mother was moved two hours ago,” Dante said calmly, setting me down inside.
I stared at him in utter disbelief.
“You... you moved her? Before any of this happened?”
“I knew Richard Bennett was planning a double-cross,” Dante replied, strapping a tactical holster around his chest. “I just didn't expect him to use my own engagement party as the execution ground.”
He turned back to face me, his dark eyes fierce.
“Stay here. Do not open this door for anyone except me. If the monitor turns red, press the override button and run through the service tunnel.”
“Where are you going?” I grabbed his arm.
“To clean house,” Dante whispered.
He kissed my forehead—a quick, desperate press of his lips against my skin—before stepping back out into the study and swinging the steel door shut.
The heavy lock engaged with a deafening *clank*.
I stood alone in the dim blue light of the panic room, surrounded by monitors showing every corner of the mansion.
On screen four, I saw Richard Bennett standing in the grand foyer, holding a smoking revolver while security guards lay unconscious around him.
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And standing right beside him was someone I never expected to see.
My own uncle, Arthur Carter, holding a briefcase full of cash.
