Chapter 3 - THE BASEMENT PRISON OF MORETTI ESTATE
Dante’s knife sliced through the ropes in a single fluid motion.
My wrists burned where the twine had bitten deep into my skin.
“Can you stand?” he asked, his dark eyes searching my face in the dim light.
“Yes,” I lied, my knees trembling violently.
He caught me by the elbow before I hit the concrete.
“Stay close behind me,” Dante ordered, drawing a suppressed pistol from his shoulder holster.
We slipped out through the ventilation tunnel into the freezing alley.
Waiting outside was a black SUV with its engine running.
Dante shoved me into the back seat and slid in beside me.
The vehicle surged forward into the rainy Chicago night.
For twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
I watched the city lights flash across Dante’s hard profile.
“Why did Marco use you?” Dante finally broke the silence, his eyes fixed on me.
“I didn't know what was in the envelope,” I defended myself, my voice trembling.
“I was just a waitress trying to pay rent.”
“Nobody is just a waitress in Chicago, Emma,” Dante said coldly.
“Especially not tonight.”
The SUV rolled through massive wrought-iron gates guarded by armed men.
We pulled up to a sprawling stone mansion overlooking Lake Michigan.
The Moretti Estate.
Inside, towering marble pillars and roaring fireplaces greeted us.
A doctor was waiting in the foyer with a medical kit.
“Tend to her wrists,” Dante commanded, walking toward a heavy oak study.
“Wait,” I called out, clutching my bruised arms.
“Why didn't you just leave me in that warehouse?”
Dante stopped at the doorway, not turning around.
“Because Marco wants you dead or broken.”
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“And I don't like anyone taking what belongs to Dante Moretti.”
The heavy oak door clicked shut.
