Chapter 6 - Blood on the Glass
"Get down!" Dante roared.
In a fraction of a second, the immaculate mob boss transformed into a tactical machine. He lunged across the counter, shoving Harlo violently to the floor behind the heavy stainless-steel partition as a hail of submachine-gun fire shredded the deli shelves behind them. Bottles of olive oil shattered, glass jars exploded into powder, and the sweet smell of cured meats was instantly replaced by the acrid, stinging reek of cordite and burning dust.
Hank screamed, ducking behind the grill as plaster rained down from the ceiling.
"Vance! Front door!" Dante shouted over the deafening roar of automatic fire, not breaking a sweat even as bullets ricocheted inches from his head.
The towering brute who had entered with Dante—Vance—didn't hesitate. He drew a suppressed automatic pistol from beneath his overcoat, kicked open the shattered side door, and vanished into the swirling snow outside. A series of muffled, rhythmic pops echoed down the alley, followed by a heavy, wet thud.
Silence rushed back into the deli, heavier and more terrifying than before.
Harlo was trembling violently, her hands covered in shards of glass and dust. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. She looked up at Dante. He had a shallow graze across his cheek, a thin bead of dark crimson trickling down toward his jawline, but his eyes were wide open, terrifyingly clear, and completely devoid of fear.
"You see?" Dante whispered, his voice dangerously close to her ear as he shielded her body with his own. "You don't get a choice anymore, Harlo. They found you because of her. And they won't stop until every witness is erased."
May you like
Slowly, Dante reached out and slid the velvet box—and the gold key inside it—directly into the pocket of her coat.
"Vance is securing the perimeter," Dante said, standing up smoothly and brushing a speck of drywall dust from his sleeve as if he had merely tripped on a sidewalk. "Pack your bags, Harlo. You’re coming with us."
