Chapter 7 - THE BETRAYAL WITHIN THE BLOODLINE
The blue glow of the panic room monitors painted my face in pale light.
I stared in horror at screen four.
My uncle Arthur—the man who had supposedly spent the last six years living in Florida, broke and broken-hearted over my father’s death—was standing in Dante Moretti’s grand foyer.
Handing Richard Bennett a fresh magazine for his gun.
“You should have killed the girl weeks ago, Richard,” Arthur’s voice hissed through the audio feed. “Elena is too smart. If she finds the physical backups of Thomas’s research, your entire corporate empire crumbles.”
Richard Bennett wiped sweat from his forehead.
“She’s just a maid, Arthur! How was I supposed to know Dante would take an interest in hired help?”
“Dante doesn't care about her; he cares about control,” Arthur spat. “And now the whole operation is compromised because you couldn't keep your daughter from flaunting her cruelty.”
Vanessa sobbed nearby, clutching her torn designer gown.
“It wasn't my fault! Dante was looking right at her!”
I pressed my palms against the cold glass of the monitor.
My own blood had betrayed my father.
Arthur didn't lose everything in the fire—he helped orchestrate it.
He traded my father’s life and patents for a seat at the Bennett family table.
Suddenly, screen two flickered.
Dante stepped out from the western corridor into the foyer, his movements fluid and completely silent.
He didn't draw a weapon immediately.
He simply walked into the center of the room, his hands resting casually at his sides.
“Looking for me, gentlemen?” Dante’s voice echoed through the speakers.
Richard spun around, raising his revolver with a shaking hand.
Arthur froze, his briefcase slipping from his fingers and crashing onto the marble floor, scattering bundles of hundred-dollar bills across the blood-stained tiles.
“Dante,” Richard forced out, a desperate grin crossing his face. “This is a misunderstanding. The Carter man here... he approached us with proof that—.”
“Proof that you murdered my lead biological engineer six years ago?” Dante interrupted, taking another step forward.
Arthur’s face turned the color of ash.
“Dante, listen to reason,” Arthur pleaded, raising his hands. “We can cut you in. Fifty percent of the pharmaceutical royalties. Billions of dollars.”
Dante stopped ten feet away.
His expression was colder than winter ice.
“I don't want your money, Arthur.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Blood,” Dante said softly.
Before Richard could squeeze the trigger of his revolver, a deafening explosion rocked the mansion’s front entrance.
Smoke billowed across the monitors.
Men in black tactical gear swarmed through the shattered glass doors.
Federal agents? No.
Dante’s personal strike team.
The battle was over almost as soon as it began.
On the screen, Dante walked past the subdued men, his eyes lifting directly toward the hidden camera lens of the panic room.
May you like
As if he knew I was watching.
As if he was looking straight into my soul.
