Chapter 15 - The Bloodied King
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The ride to the secondary safe house was a blur of flashing police sirens and frantic radio chatter. Marcus drove with terrifying precision, weaving through the gridlocked Manhattan traffic, utilizing alleyways and loading zones to evade any potential pursuers.
“Are you hit?” Marcus demanded, his eyes constantly scanning the rearview mirror.
“No. I’m fine,” Sophia gasped, shivering violently as the adrenaline began to crash, leaving her exhausted and numb.
They arrived at a discreet, subterranean parking garage beneath a non-descript apartment building in Queens. It was a blackout location, known only to Marcus.
They took a private freight elevator to the top floor, entering a sparse, heavily fortified apartment. Steel shutters covered the windows. The only furniture was a small table, a few chairs, and a basic medical station.
“Sit down,” Marcus ordered, tossing her a heavy tactical jacket to cover her shivering shoulders. “I need to monitor the comms. The city is a war zone right now.”
Sophia sank into a chair, pulling her knees to her chest. She had survived. She was free. But the hollow ache in her chest was overwhelming. She had watched the man she loved submit to another woman to save his life. The illusion of Adrian Moretti, the untouchable king, was completely shattered.
An hour passed in agonizing silence. The police scanners crackled with reports of multiple casualties at the Plaza Hotel, but no high-profile arrests. The syndicates were cleaning up their own mess before the authorities could piece it together.
Suddenly, the heavy steel door of the apartment rattled violently.
Marcus instantly drew his weapon, aiming it at the entrance. “Stand back, Sophia.”
The electronic lock beeped green. Someone had the override code.
The door swung open, and Adrian stumbled into the room.
He looked horrific. His expensive tuxedo was shredded. His face was bruised and covered in soot. Blood poured freely from a gunshot wound in his left shoulder, soaking the white fabric of his shirt. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, his pistol dangling loosely from his right hand.
“Adrian,” Sophia gasped, leaping up from the chair.
Marcus didn't lower his weapon. “Boss. You’re supposed to be with Valentina securing the treaty.”
“The treaty is dead,” Adrian choked out, coughing up a spatter of blood onto the floorboards. “Dante didn't care about the marriage. He used the chaos to try and execute me himself. I killed him. Dante Russo is dead.”
The magnitude of the statement hung heavily in the air. By killing Dante, Adrian had officially started an all-out, unforgiving war with the entire Russo family.
Adrian’s knees finally buckled. He collapsed forward onto the hard floor, slipping into unconsciousness.
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Sophia didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees beside him, pressing her hands frantically against the bleeding wound on his shoulder.
“Marcus! Get the medical kit! Now!” she screamed, her hands slick with the blood of the man she had sworn to leave behind.
