Chapter 9
The gunshot echoed loudly in the cramped kitchen.
The gunman dropped his weapon and crumpled to the floor.
Dante spun around, eyes widening slightly before nodding in grim approval.
“Not bad for a law student,” Dante shouted over the din of gunfire.
“Keep moving!” Emma yelled back, reloading the Glock with shaking hands.
They fought their way through the shattered front foyer, covering Salvatore as the older man moved with practiced tactical precision.
Outside, the night air was thick with smoke and the smell of sulfur.
Two black SUVs blocked the driveway, their doors standing wide open.
“Get in!” Dante ordered, firing suppressive rounds toward the neighbor’s hedge where two more snipers were positioned.
They piled into a bullet-riddled sedan parked in the garage.
Dante slammed his foot on the gas pedal.
The car smashed through the closed wooden garage doors, showering glass and splinters across the lawn.
As they sped away into the stormy night, a rocket-propelled grenade streaked past their rear window, detonating against the safehouse behind them in a massive fireball.
The shockwave rocked their vehicle, but Dante held the wheel steady.
In the back seat, Salvatore wiped soot from his forehead, breathing heavily.
“That boy has entirely lost his mind,” Salvatore muttered.
Emma clutched her canvas bag to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
“Where are we going?” Emma asked, looking at Dante’s profile in the dashboard light.
“Manhattan,” Dante said, his voice cold as ice. “We’re taking the fight directly to Julian’s penthouse.”
“Are you insane?” Salvatore shouted. “That’s his fortress!”
“It’s the only place he isn’t expecting us,” Dante replied calmly. “He thinks we’re running for the state line. Instead, we’re cutting off the head of the snake.”
Emma looked out the window at the rain-soaked highway.
She knew the risks.
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If they failed, they wouldn’t just die—they would disappear into the East River without a trace.
But for the first time in her life, she felt entirely alive.
