Chapter 8 - The Shadow Remnants
Even in peace, the underworld never truly sleeps.
Three weeks after the summit, intelligence reports landed on my desk. Remnants of Marcus’s syndicate, hiding across the Canadian border, were attempting to regroup under a new buyer. They were planning a desperate, retaliatory strike during the upcoming annual Chicago Charity Gala—an event where Alina would be hosting alongside me.
Viktor stood by my desk, his face grim. “Boss, we can cancel the gala. Move you and Mrs. Moretti to the secure compound in Montana.”
I looked down at the dossier, then out the window toward the garden where Alina was arranging a fresh bouquet of white roses. My jaw tightened, but not with fear—with absolute determination.
“We don’t run, Viktor,” I said coldly. “We draw them out. Let them think they have an opening at the gala. We’ll end this once and for all, right in front of the entire city.”
That evening, I sat beside Alina on the velvet sofa, gently tracing the tattoo on my forearm. I didn't hide the danger from her anymore. I told her everything—every threat, every tactical move, every detail of the trap we were setting.
May you like
Alina listened without a tremor in her hands. She reached over, placing her warm palm over mine. “We face them together, Dante. No more secrets. No more hiding.”
“Together,” I swore, pulling her into an embrace that felt unbreakable.
