Chapter 7 - THE BLOOD ON THE MARBLE FLOOR
Dante dragged the unconscious intruder down to the underground holding cells.
I followed closely, refusing to be left alone in the echoing hallways.
“Tie him to the chair,” Dante ordered a battered guard who had survived the raid.
The intruder regained consciousness, groaning as cold water hit his face.
He wore a silver ring on his left index finger.
My breath hitched.
“Where did you get that ring?” I asked, pointing trembling fingers.
The man sneered, spitting blood onto the pristine marble floor.
“Ask your new boyfriend,” the prisoner laughed hoarsely.
“Ask him who really killed Joanne Hughes.”
The room went dead silent.
Dante’s face drained of color, his jaw clenching so hard muscles ticked in his cheek.
“Shut your mouth,” Dante growled, taking a threatening step forward.
“No, let him speak!” I screamed, stepping between Dante and the prisoner.
“What do you know about my mother?”
The prisoner looked at Dante with malicious glee.
“Moretti didn't protect her twenty years ago,” the man wheezed.
“He gave the order to silence her.”
My world tilted sideways.
I looked back at Dante, searching his dark eyes for a lie.
“Tell me it’s not true,” I whispered, tears finally spilling over my lashes.
Dante stared at me, his chest heaving.
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“It’s not that simple, Emma.”
“Tell me!” I screamed, my voice cracking with absolute betrayal.
