Chapter 8 - The Price of Loyalty
The heavy oak doors of the study slammed shut, leaving Harlo alone with Dante under the harsh, analytical glare of the Salvatore heir.
"Compliance?" Harlo echoed, her voice shaking with a dangerous mixture of grief and adrenaline. "What is that supposed to mean? Am I your prisoner now?"
"You are our guest," Dante corrected coldly, pacing toward the mahogany desk and picking up a thick leather-bound dossier. He tossed it onto the surface in front of her. "Open it."
Reluctantly, Harlo stepped forward and flipped open the cover. Inside were detailed intelligence reports, wiretap transcripts, and financial audits bearing the logos of federal agencies and rival crime families alike. But on the very first page was a photograph that made her breath hitch.
It was her younger brother, Leo—the dock worker who had sent her the encrypted text about the two million dollars. He was standing on a pier, shaking hands with a man known to be the chief enforcer of the Vanguard syndicate—the very faction that had just bombed the deli.
"Leo..." Harlo whispered, the room spinning around her. "No. That’s a lie. He works cargo. He’s just trying to pay off our parents' medical bills."
"Your brother was compromised six months ago, Harlo," Dante said, his voice entirely devoid of pity, yet strangely gentle. "The Vanguard bought his debts. They used him to plant listening devices in the shipping containers. And last night, when they realized my mother had slipped away, they tried to use him to find her location."
Harlo staggered backward, her hands flying to her mouth. "Where is he? Is he alive?"
"For now," Dante replied, turning to look out the frost-covered window toward the dark, crashing waves below. "Because my mother intervened. She remembered that you shared your last meager bowl of soup with a starving stranger. She gave your brother twenty-four hours to disappear across the Canadian border. But the Vanguard think you are the one holding the cipher to our financial network."
Harlo stared at Dante, the terrifying magnitude of her situation finally settling over her bones. She wasn't just a bystander anymore. She was standing at the dead-center of a war between empires.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper.
May you like
Dante turned slowly, walking back until he stood just inches away. He reached out, his gloved fingers gently lifting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his piercing gaze.
"I want you to play your part," Dante said softly. "Tomorrow, the Vanguard will reach out to you with an offer. Two million dollars for your silence and cooperation. And we are going to let them walk right into our trap."
