Chapter 11 - Stitches and SecretsFor two agonizing hours, Clara operated under the dim glow of emergency backup lights.
She managed to extract the bullet fragments and stitch the shredded muscle together.
Her hands were covered in his blood, but her movements were precise and unflinching.
When she finally tied the last suture, she collapsed into a chair, shaking violently.
Dante was pale and sweating, but his breathing had finally stabilized.
He waved a weak hand, dismissing the guards from the room entirely.
Once the door clicked shut, they were entirely alone.
“You saved my life,” Dante rasped, staring at the ceiling.
“You saved mine by locking me in that vault,” Clara replied, wiping her bloody hands on a towel.
Dante turned his head slowly to look at her.
“The Moretti family is broken now.”
“My men slaughtered their leadership tonight.”
Clara closed her eyes, the reality of the violence making her feel sick.
“Is it over?” she asked quietly.
“The war is over,” Dante confirmed.
“But the danger is not.”
He struggled to push himself up on his elbows, wincing in pain.
“The man who betrayed me, the guard who left Julian in the park, was not working for Moretti.”
Clara opened her eyes, confusion washing over her.
“Then who paid him?”
“My own underboss,” Dante confessed, the ultimate betrayal hanging heavy in the air.
“He wanted me distracted so he could take over the syndicate.”
Clara gasped, realizing that the real enemy had been inside the house all along.
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“He knows you are important to me, Clara,” Dante said softly.
“He knows you are my weakness.”
