Chapter 5 - Shadows in the Penthouse
The penthouse overlooking the Thames was a fortress of glass, steel, and ruthless design. Within minutes of our arrival, Dante’s private medical team had checked Leo over, confirming he was unharmed, just exhausted from the chaos. Now, the little boy was fast asleep in a massive guest suite, clutching a silver pocket watch Dante had unclipped from his vest just to keep him quiet.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the relentless rain hammer against the glass. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and neon below. Behind me, the soft click of a lighter flared, illuminating the sharp angles of Dante’s face as he lit a cigar. He hadn't spoken since we left the alley.
"She lied about Julian," I said quietly, my voice trembling slightly as I stared at my reflection in the dark glass. "Well... she didn't lie about the wedding. But she twisted it."
"I don't care about Julian Moretti's past marital arrangements," Dante said, his voice deep and raspy as he exhaled a thin stream of gray smoke toward the high ceiling. "I care about the fact that your sister knows you're here. Which means within the hour, every assassin on the continent will know this address."
I turned around, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. "Then why bring me here? You could have left me at the station. You could have given me to the authorities like you did three years ago."
Dante turned his head slowly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. He walked toward me, each step deliberate, heavy with the weight of unsaid words and shared history. When he stopped just inches away, I could smell the expensive scotch on his breath mixed with the rain.
"Three years ago," Dante said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper, "I let you walk away because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe from my war. I watched you board a train to Manchester with nothing but a suitcase and a broken heart. And every single day since then, I have regretted it."
"You didn't care," I choked out, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. "When Lawrence was arrested... when my father disowned me... you looked at me like I was just another piece of collateral damage."
"I looked at you," Dante interrupted, his hand suddenly reaching out, his long fingers gently cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing away a stray tear, "knowing that if I touched you, my enemies would tear you apart. Julian Moretti took you in because he wanted to break you. And your sister... she married him out of spite, knowing it would destroy what was left of your family."
"And what about you, Dante?" I whispered, looking up into his dark, storm-swept eyes. "Why are you here now?"
Before he could answer, a piercing, electronic chime echoed through the penthouse.
Dante cursed under his breath, dropping his hand from my face and turning toward a concealed wall console. He tapped a key, and a live security feed flickered to life on the massive screen.
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Downstairs, at the private subterranean garage entrance, three black Escalades had bypassed the security gates. Armed men in tactical gear were pouring out, their assault rifles raised. And leading them, walking with the arrogant stride of a man who owned the city, was Julian Moretti.
***
