chapter 10: Blood in the Vault

A single gunshot shattered the panic in the grand ballroom.

​Sergio Bellini howled as Dante’s bullet pinned the traitor’s right palm straight into the mahogany table, splattering his scotch with crimson.

​"Nobody leaves," Dante commanded, his lethal baritone cutting through the screams. "Enzo, seal the wine tunnel and lock the gates. Anyone who moves dies."

​Reaching beneath the slit of my emerald gown, I drew my silver Sig Sauer from my thigh holster and kicked off my heels. Dante caught my hand as we sprinted into the private service stairwell, pulling me up the marble steps two at a time.

​Thick black smoke billowed across the third-floor landing, carrying the sharp stench of military thermite.

​"Stay behind my right shoulder, piccola," Dante murmured, pressing me against the wall as he flicked off his Beretta’s safety.

​Two masked mercenaries stepped out of the haze guarding the study doors. Dante moved like a shadow, firing two rapid shots that dropped the first gunman instantly. The second mercenary pivoted toward Dante’s blind side, pulling the pin on a flashbang—until I dropped to one knee and fired.

​My bullet shattered the man’s wrist. The grenade rolled backward down the hall as Dante finished him with a ruthless strike to the temple. He glanced down at me through the smoke, a dark smirk curving his scarred jaw. "Remind me never to lose an argument with you, Mrs. Moretti."

​"Save the compliments until we secure the safe," I breathed.

​Together, we kicked open the scorched oak doors of his study.

​Across the ruined room, the steel door of the wall vault hung off its melted hinges. Mateo Vance stood by the shattered French doors of the terrace with an assault rifle, while a tall blonde woman in a black trench coat clutched the crimson Saint-Laurent Harbor folder and a flicked-open silver lighter.

​Victoria.

​When my sister’s cold blue eyes landed on my emerald gown and the diamond serpent around my throat, her lips twisted with venom.

​"Look at you, Siena," Victoria sneered over the wail of the alarms. "Dressed in stolen diamonds, playing the dutiful mafia bride. Did you really think stepping into my wedding dress made you anything more than a pawn?"

​"I didn't step into that church to save you, Victoria," I said, aiming my pistol squarely between her eyes. "I stayed to protect our mother’s company."

​"It belongs to Rafael Calderon now!" Victoria snapped, bringing the flame an inch from the folder. "Drop your weapons, or I burn the original port charters to ash!"

​Beside me, Dante didn't lower his gun. Instead, he let out a low, chilling laugh.

​"Burn them," Dante said calmly.

​Victoria blinked, her hand faltering. "What?"

​"You broke into a third-floor vault for decoy paper," I told her coldly, watching the color drain from her face. "Dante transferred eighty percent of the harbor’s legal shares into an encrypted digital trust three hours ago. And the thermite charge your boyfriend used on that safe just triggered a silent beacon to our rooftop snipers."

​Outside the terrace, the deafening roar of helicopter rotors tore through the night. Blinding searchlights swept across the shattered glass as an unmarked black chopper rose above the third-floor balcony.

​Victoria’s mask of arrogance shattered into fury. "Kill them, Mateo!"

​Mateo unleashed a burst of automatic fire across the study. Dante lunged sideways, wrapping his massive arms around my waist and tackling me behind the heavy mahogany desk as bullets chewed through the wood above us. Crystal shards rained over my bare shoulders as Dante shielded my body completely with his own.

​The instant the gunfire paused, Dante rose and fired twice.

​Mateo cried out as two rounds tore through his left shoulder, spinning him onto the stone terrace in a spray of blood. Victoria grabbed the wounded mercenary by his vest, dragging him onto the steel skid of the hovering helicopter.

​I aimed through the smoke, ready to shoot, when Victoria screamed back over the whipping wind of the rotors:

​"You think Dante Moretti married you for your brains, little sister?! Look beneath the false floor of his vault! Ask your ruthless husband what happened the night your mother’s car went off that bridge!"

​The helicopter banked sharply into the dark clouds before I could fire.

​Silence fell over the ruined study, broken only by the crackle of flames and my ragged breathing. Slowly, I turned toward the blown-open safe.

​There, beneath the collapsed steel floorplate at the back of Dante’s private vault, lay a scorched, bloodstained file stamped in faded red ink:

​ELEANOR LAURENT — CASE FILE: CLOSED.