Chapter 14 - The Final Bloodshed at the Docks
Nikolai didn't hesitate. With a feral roar, the massive Russian charged forward, drawing a heavy combat blade and lunging at Dante’s throat.
Dante sidestepped the blade with lightning speed, driving a vicious elbow strike into Nikolai's jaw that sent blood and teeth flying. Nikolai absorbed the blow, roaring as he tackled Dante through a stack of wooden crates, both men crashing violently onto the concrete floor.
I struggled frantically against the heavy ropes binding my wrists to the steel chair. Looking down, I saw a jagged piece of broken glass from the light fixtures lying near my foot.
Stretching my leg out, I pulled the shard closer, kicking it up into my palm. Ignoring the sharp edge slicing into my fingers, I sawed furiously through the thick nylon ropes.
Across the room, the battle between the two syndicate bosses was brutal and unforgiving.
Nikolai had Dante pinned against a heavy forklift, his massive hands wrapped around Dante's throat, choking the life out of him. "I killed your wife, Moretti! And now I will take your empire and your twin whore!"
Dante’s face was turning purple, but his eyes never wavered.
With a burst of desperate strength, Dante reached down to his combat boot, pulled out a concealed titanium push dagger, and drove the blade straight through Nikolai's right kneecap!
Nikolai shrieked in agony, his grip loosening as his leg buckled beneath him.
Dante twisted out of the hold, grabbed Nikolai by the back of his neck, and slammed the Russian's head repeatedly into the heavy steel bumper of the forklift until Nikolai collapsed onto his back, gasping for air, covered in his own blood.
Dante stood over him, his chest heaving, wiping blood from his scarred cheek.
"This is for Isabella," Dante whispered coldly, raising his weapon toward Nikolai’s forehead.
Suddenly, a wounded Russian guard lying in the shadows raised his pistol, aiming directly at Dante’s exposed back!
"DANTE, LOOK OUT!" I screamed.
The ropes snapped. I broke free from the chair, lunging across the concrete floor, grabbing a discarded Kalashnikov rifle from a fallen mercenary, and pulled the trigger.
A burst of automatic fire shredded the wounded guard before he could fire a single shot.
Dante turned, looking at me holding the smoking rifle with fierce, wide eyes, before turning back down to Nikolai Volkov.
BANG.
The sound of the final gunshot echoed across the silent docks of Chicago.
Nikolai Volkov’s head snapped back, his lifeless body slumping onto the cold concrete.
The war was over.
Dante dropped his empty weapon, running across the warehouse and sweeping both Matteo and me into his massive, trembling arms.
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I buried my face in his chest, weeping uncontrollably as Matteo giggled, patting his father's bloodied cheek with his tiny hand.
"It's over, my love," Dante whispered, his voice breaking with raw emotion as he kissed my hair, my forehead, and my lips. "It's finally over. We're free."
