Chapter 2
DANTE
The door explodes inward under the force of my boot and I’m already taking in every detail in the room before the splinters hit the ground.
Antonio Marchetti is standing by the desk, a Glock in hand. A girl sits huddled on the floor, what looks like a nurse scrub is torn at the shoulder, dark hair wild around her face.
I turn to my target.
“Dante Moretti.” Antonio’s voice cuts through the room. “I should’ve known you’d come.”
I don’t waste time with words. My gun rises, steady, and aims at his center mass. Three of my men are behind me in the hallway, weapons trained on the door in case anyone else is stupid enough to try stopping us.
The mansion is ours now. We’ve been cutting through Antonio’s guards for the last twenty minutes, room by room, body by body.
I feel nothing about the men dying tonight. They chose this life the same as I did. We all do. Everyone in this world knows exactly what they’re signing up for when they pick up a gun and swear loyalty to a family. Death comes with the territory.
What I came for is simple.
The ledger.
The legendary Marchetti insurance policy that’s kept all five families from tearing each other apart for a decade. Names, accounts, crimes documented in excruciating detail that could end empires and destroy legacies built over generations.
Antonio’s been sitting on it like a king on a throne, untouchable because fighting him means that ledger surfaces and everyone burns. Politicians, judges, cops, family heads, all of them would be exposed and ruined.
But not anymore. Tonight I’m either taking it or I’m making sure no one ever gets it.
Where would the bastard hide it? Not here. Too obvious. A man like Antonio doesn’t keep his most valuable asset in a place that can be raided.
I shrug off my jacket without taking my eyes off Antonio. It hits the floor behind me with a heavy thud. My movement is calculated. Showing I’m not leaving without getting what I want. Even if things get messy. Even if this room has to be painted red before the night is over.
Antonio’s hand twitches around his gun and I let my own finger rest on the trigger. One wrong move and he’s done. One twitch in the wrong direction and this conversation ends permanently.
“Where’s the ledger, Antonio?”
Antonio smiles and it’s all teeth. There’s blood on his mouth from where it looks like the girl got him and it makes him look like a hyena.
“You really think I’m going to tell you that?” He shifts his weight. “You think I’m stupid enough to give up my only protection?”
“I think you’re smart enough to know what happens if you don’t, seeing as you’re cornered…right now,” I say, my gun never wavering.
“I know exactly what happens.” His smile widens, blood staining his teeth. “You kill me, the ledger’s location dies with me. Every family in New York will tear this city apart looking for it. Blood in the streets. War for years. Innocents caught in the crossfire.”
He’s right. And he knows it.
That’s the problem with men like Antonio. They’re not stupid. They plan for scenarios like this. They build backups and dead man’s switches that trigger if they fall. They think three steps ahead and prepare for every outcome.
“Or,” Antonio continues, his voice smooth like he’s negotiating a business deal instead of staring down my gun, “you walk away. Let me keep my insurance. Everyone stays safe. No war. No bloodshed. Just business as usual and I’ll forgive this madness.”
Behind me, I hear Marco shift position in the hallway. Waiting for my signal. Waiting to see if this ends with a head rolling to the ground—a head that’s certainly not going to be mine.
“Last chance,” I say to Antonio. “Where is it?”
His expression hardens, the fake negotiation smile dropping completely.
“Go to hell!”
His hand moves trying to aim his gun at my face but I’m faster. I’m always faster.
I close the distance between us in two long strides, and we collide.
It’s brutal from the first impact. Antonio might be older, but he’s not soft. He’s been in this life for decades. He knows how to fight, how to hurt people, how to survive when survival seems impossible.
His elbow cracks into my ribs. Something shifts wrong inside my chest, but I don’t let it slow me down.
I drive my fist hard into his jaw and the sound of bones leaving their position reverberates through the air. His head snaps sideways with the force. He stumbles into the desk and papers scatter everywhere, books falling, everything expensive and pristine getting destroyed in seconds.
Good. Let it all burn.
He recovers faster than I expect, lunging at me with his gun still in hand. The man has stamina. I’ll give him that. The barrel swings toward my face and I grab his wrist, twisting hard until I hear something pop. Bone or tendon, I don’t care which.
He roars and drops the weapon. It clatters to the floor and the girl scrambles away from it, pressing herself against the wall.
Antonio throws a wild punch and catches me in the temple. Stars burst across my vision, but training keeps me moving. Muscle memory takes over. I grab his shirt and slam him backward into the bookshelf behind his desk.
Wood gives way with a crack that sounds like thunder. Books crash down around us, heavy hardcovers that probably cost more than most people’s rent. A heavy marble statue wobbles on its pedestal and crashes to the floor, shattering into pieces that scatter across expensive carpet.
We’re destroying his office and neither of us cares. This isn’t about preserving anything anymore. This is about dominance. About who walks out of this room alive.
He gets his hands around my throat, fingers digging in, trying to crush my windpipe. His grip is strong, his face twisted with rage and the absolute certainty that he’s not giving up the ledger.
Then you fucking die with your secrets.
I bring my knee up hard into his gut once, twice, three times until his grip loosens enough for me to breathe. Air rushes back into my lungs and I use the momentum. I grab his head with both hands and drive it down into my rising knee.
The impact is loud and ugly. Wet. Blood bursts from his nose in a spray that splatters across both of us. He staggers backward, blinking through the pain and the blood running into his eyes.
But he’s still standing. Still fighting.
Tough bastard.
A lamp goes flying as Antonio lunges at me again, wild and desperate. It shatters against the wall behind the girl and she flinches, covering her head with her arms.
I catch Antonio mid-lunge and we crash through a side table. More destruction. More expensive furniture reduced to nothing but kindling and splinters. The sound of breaking wood fills the room.
He’s weakening. I can feel it in how his punches are getting slower, sloppier. Blood is pouring from his nose and mouth. His breathing is ragged and uneven. One of his ribs is probably cracked from my knee.
But he’s not quitting. Won’t quit. Men like Antonio don’t surrender. They fight until their body gives out or someone puts a bullet in them.
Good. Neither do I.
I pin him against the wall, too close to the girl for comfort but she doesn’t scramble away. My forearm is across his throat, and I look him dead in the eyes. Blood covers his face. His expensive suit is ruined. But there’s still fire in his gaze.
“Last chance, Antonio.”
Blood bubbles on his lips when he speaks. “Fuck you! The ledger dies with me. You’ll never find it!”
I know.
The realization has been building since the moment I walked in here. Antonio Marchetti isn’t the type to break. He’ll die before he talks because that ledger is the only thing keeping him relevant and powerful in a world that would chew him up otherwise.
Without it, he’s nothing. Just another middle-aged gangster in an expensive suit.
With it hidden forever, he’s a legend to be feared. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.
Fine. Be a dead legend.
And without warning, I release him and step back, pulling my gun in one smooth motion. The movement is practiced and automatic. I’ve done this a thousand times.
He sags against the wall like a bag of potatoes, blood running down his chin, his expensive suit ruined beyond repair. He looks at my gun and something like satisfaction crosses his face.
He thinks he’s won. Idiot probably thinks this is me trying to negotiate again.
Well, let him think that. Just for the next few seconds. I pull the trigger.
The first bullet pierces through his chest, dead center. His body jerks, slamming back against the wall. His eyes go wide with shock and pain. Like he didn’t really believe I’d do it. He turns, facing the girl and whispers something, but I can’t hear it.
The second bullet hits two inches from the first. Making sure. Destroying everything vital inside him. Heart, lungs, major arteries. Everything that keeps a man alive.
He slides down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him like some grotesque painting. His mouth opens like he’s trying to say something, but only blood comes out. Dark and thick. Pooling on his expensive carpet.
I step closer, standing over him, and aim at his head. His eyes meet mine one last time.
Die with your secrets.
The third bullet goes through his skull smoothly, finishing the job.
The gunshot echoes through the room, impossibly loud in the sudden stillness.
His head snaps back from the impact and then he’s still. Completely still.
Antonio Marchetti is dead. The legendary ledger died with him.
And somewhere in this room, a girl with green eyes just watched me commit murder.
Well, this is inconvenient.