Chapter 11 - Trapped in the Crosshairs of the Commission's Wrath
Before departing, Dante convened an emergency encrypted video call with the Chicago Commission—the governing council of the five major underworld families.
On the screen, four elderly bosses appeared, their faces grim.
“Dante,” said Don Salvatore, the eldest member. “Rocco has violated the ancient code. Taking civilian hostages and attacking medical facilities is forbidden. The Commission cannot sanction this madness.”
“I am not asking for your permission to act, Don Salvatore,” Dante said, strapping a tactical combat vest beneath his coat. “I am notifying you that within two hours, the Santoro syndicate will cease to exist. If any family intervenes to support Rocco, I will consider it a declaration of total war.”
Don Salvatore bowed his head slowly. “Rocco has brought this upon himself. The Commission stands down. May Saint Michael guide your steel, Valente.”
Dante closed the laptop and turned to his armory. He equipped himself with suppressed tactical sidearms, ceramic body armor, and military-grade communication relays.
He then handed Sienna a small, lightweight concealed pistol.
“I hope you never have to fire this,” Dante said, showing her how to release the safety. “Keep it in your coat pocket. If anyone touches you and I am not there, pull the trigger until it clicks.”
Sienna gripped the cold steel, her hands steady now. The fear that had paralyzed her for weeks had burned away, replaced by a fierce, maternal need to protect her father and the man she loved.
“I’m ready,” she said.
May you like
Dante looked at her, his eyes filled with fierce pride. He pulled her in, kissing her hard and deep on the lips.
“Let’s go bring your father home.”
