Chapter 17 - The Darkness Falls
Shouts of confusion erupted from Vance’s mercenaries as the darkness swallowed the room.
"Hold your fire! Don't shoot blindly!" Vance roared over the chaos, stumbling backward against the shipping crate.
In the absolute blackness, Dante moved like a ghost. Having spent years mastering the shadows of the underworld, he didn't need light to navigate the terrain. A muffled gasp echoed from the far corner of the warehouse as one of the guards was lifted off his feet and slammed silently into a stack of steel barrels.
*Clatter.* A heavy assault rifle hit the concrete floor.
"Fire! Shoot at anything that moves!" another mercenary screamed, panic gripping the group as muzzle flashes erupted blindly into the dark, chewing up wooden crates and sending splinters flying through the air.
"Idiots! Stop shooting!" Vance shouted, drawing a silver-plated automatic pistol from his shoulder holster and aiming it wildly into the void.
Suddenly, a heavy hand clamped around Vance’s wrist with the crushing force of a hydraulic press. Before Vance could pull the trigger, his fingers went numb, and the pistol dropped from his grip, clattering against the concrete.
"Looking for this?" Dante’s voice whispered directly into Vance’s ear, cold as an arctic gale.
Before Vance could turn, a devastating blow landed squarely across his jaw, sending him crashing backward over a crate. He hit the floor hard, blood pooling instantly in his mouth as his vision swam with blinding white lights.
"Turn on the auxiliary power!" Vance choked out, spitting blood onto the dusty floor.
At that exact moment, the emergency floodlights blared to life, casting a harsh, glaring white illumination across the entire warehouse floor.
Vance blinked rapidly against the glare, pushing himself up onto his elbows. The scene before him made his blood run cold. All six of his elite mercenaries were unconscious, slumped awkwardly against the walls and crates around the room. Standing right above him, completely untouched, was Dante Moretti.
Dante reached down, grabbed Vance by the lapels of his expensive charcoal suit, and hoisted him effortlessly to his feet, slamming him hard against the wooden crate.
"You wanted a war, Julian?" Dante whispered, his face inches from Vance’s, his eyes burning with absolute fury. "You have one. But it ends tonight."
Vance coughed, a desperate, pathetic wheeze escaping his lips as Dante’s grip tightened around his collar, cutting off his air supply. "You... you can't touch me. The commission... they’ll—"
"The commission doesn't exist anymore," Dante interrupted coldly. "Because I am the one who built this city's foundation, and I am the only one who can tear it down. If you or any of your men ever come within a hundred miles of Elena or Sophie again, I won't just kill you. I will erase every trace of your existence from this earth."
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Dante shoved Vance away with such force that the older mob boss stumbled backward and collapsed hard onto the floor, gasping for air like a landed fish. Dante turned his back on him, walking slowly toward the exit without looking back.
***
