Chapter 12 - The Rescue
Dante stood in the doorway, covered in snow and the blood of his enemies, breathing like a wounded lion. He hadn't stayed in Chicago. He had sent his men to execute the strikes, knowing Salvatore would try a backdoor play at the safehouse.
Marco froze, the gun shaking in his hand as he stared at the most feared man in the Midwest.
“Drop it,” Dante’s voice didn't yell. It didn't have to. The quiet menace in it was enough to paralyze the mercenaries behind Marco.
“Stay back, Caruso!” Marco panicked, grabbing Maria by the arm and pressing the gun to her side. “I’ll shoot her! I swear to God I’ll do it!”
Dante didn't blink. He didn't negotiate. He moved with a speed that defied his size. He drew his combat knife and threw it in one fluid, deadly motion. The heavy steel blade buried itself into Marco’s shoulder, pinning him against the timber wall.
Marco screamed, dropping the gun.
Dante crossed the room, kicking the mercenaries to the floor before they could raise their weapons. He grabbed Marco by the throat, lifting him an inch off the ground.
“You abandoned them to starve,” Dante whispered, his face inches from Marco’s terrified eyes. “You let a child split a piece of bread to keep her mother alive. You don't deserve the title of father. You don't even deserve to be a memory.”
Dante squeezed. Marco gagged, his eyes rolling back.
“Dante, stop!” Maria yelled, grabbing his arm. “Don't do it in front of her. Please.”
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Dante looked over his shoulder. Elena was watching, clutching her bear, terrified. Dante’s grip loosened. He threw Marco to the floor, gasping for air.
“Enzo,” Dante called out into the snowy night. His second-in-command stepped through the broken door. “Take this garbage out to the woods. Ensure he never finds his way back to civilization.”
