Chapter 7 - The Betrayal
The heavy wooden doors were blown inward with a deafening bang.
Splinters of mahogany showered the entryway as four men in tactical black gear swept into the room, assault rifles raised. Behind them, stepping casually over the ruined threshold, came Lorenzo Vale, flanked by a smug, triumphant Viviana Sterling.
Viviana was wearing a trench coat over her evening gown, a vicious, venomous smile plastered across her face.
“Well, well,” Lorenzo said, stepping into the dim moonlight filtering through the panoramic windows. “Look at the king in his castle. It’s over, Dante.”
Dante sat motionless in his wheelchair, hands resting peacefully in his lap, the shadows concealing the weapon hidden beneath the folds of the blanket Lena had thrown over his knees.
“Lorenzo,” Dante said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “I see you brought the snake with you.”
Viviana scoffed, crossing her arms. “You should have signed the shipping transfer agreements, Dante. If you had just played along, we would have let you live out the rest of your miserable, paralyzed life in a private villa in Tuscany. But bringing that fat little whore to the gala? Threatening my family with audits?”
Viviana spat on the Persian rug. “You sealed your own fate.”
Lorenzo raised a hand, signaling his tactical men to lower their weapons slightly. He walked over to the desk, circling it with arrogant confidence.
“Where is she, by the way?” Lorenzo asked, glancing around the room. His eyes caught movement behind the desk. “Ah. Cowering like a rat.”
Lorenzo reached down, grabbing Lena by the hair and violently hauling her to her feet.
“Let go of her!” Lena cried out, clawing at his wrists.
“Don't touch her, Lorenzo,” Dante said. His voice was quiet, but it vibrated with a savagery so primal it made the armed mercenaries shift uncomfortably.
“Or what, brother?” Lorenzo sneered, shoving Lena forward onto her knees in front of Dante’s chair, pressing the barrel of his silver Beretta against the back of her head. “What are you going to do? Run me over with your wheels? Cry to your dead doctor?”
Viviana laughed—a shrill, grating sound. “Kill her first, Lorenzo. Make him watch. Let him see what happens when he chooses a pig over a queen.”
Dante looked at Lena. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she didn't beg. She looked at him with absolute trust.
“You killed Michael,” Dante stated, keeping his gaze locked on his brother.
“Of course I killed him,” Lorenzo scoffed. “The idiot started getting nervous. He came to me three days ago saying your spinal reflexes were misfiring, that the paralytic was losing its potency. He wanted to double the dose. I told him I’d handle it.”
Lorenzo grinned, tapping the gun against Lena’s skull. “Seven years, Dante. Seven years I ran your docks, laundered your money, and smiled while you sat in that throne like a useless lump of meat. I blew up that yacht in Biloxi to take your crown. You survived by pure dumb luck. But tonight, luck runs out.”
“You blew up the yacht?” Dante whispered. “You killed our brother Julian?”
“Julian was weak. Just like you,” Lorenzo hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Say goodbye to your little pet, Dante.”
“Lorenzo,” Dante said softly.
“What?”
Dante looked up, a cold, terrifying smile curving his lips.
“You forgot the cardinal rule of the Vale family.”
Lorenzo frowned. “What rule?”
Dante’s hands moved with blinding speed.
May you like
“Never turn your back on a king.”
***