Chapter 10 - The Calm Before the Storm
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“You can't go to war with a hole in your shoulder!” I yelled, stepping out of the kitchen as Dante left to make the calls.
Christopher strapped a heavy shoulder holster over his chest, checking the magazine of a sleek black pistol. He didn't look at me.
“I am the head of this syndicate, Emily. If I hide in a bunker while a traitor rallies my men, I lose the city. I lose everything.”
“You could lose your life!” I countered, stepping in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “Let Dante handle it. Let the police handle it!”
Christopher let out a dark, harsh laugh. He holstered the weapon and grabbed my arms, his grip firm.
“You still don't understand the world you are standing in,” he said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm register. “There are no police here. There is no justice. There is only power. If Silvio takes the throne, he will hand Boston to the Calabrians. And the first thing the Mancusos will do is hunt you down to punish me.”
The harsh reality of his words hit me like a physical blow. I wasn't just a bystander anymore. I was a liability.
“So you’re doing this to protect me,” I whispered.
“I am doing this because I am a monster who protects what is his,” Christopher said fiercely. He pulled me against his chest, kissing the top of my head. “And you are mine, Emily. Whether you want to be or not.”
He pulled away, his expression hardening back into stone.
“Dante is staying here with you. The bunker is locked from the inside. Do not open the door for anyone but me.”
“Christopher, please—”
“I will be back before sunrise,” he promised, his dark eyes blazing with a violent vow.
He turned and walked out the heavy steel doors. The locks engaged with a loud, final click, echoing in the cavernous safehouse.
I was alone with Dante, who stood silently by the door, a submachine gun resting casually in his hands.
The hours crawled by in agonizing slow motion. I paced the concrete floor, my mind racing through the horrific possibilities. What if Silvio had more men? What if the Calabrians had set a trap?
At 4:00 AM, Dante’s earpiece crackled violently.
Dante pressed two fingers to his ear, his face draining of all color. He looked at me, sheer terror in his eyes.
“What is it?” I demanded, rushing toward him. “Dante, what happened?!”
“It was a trap,” Dante whispered, lowering his weapon. “Silvio wasn't at the meatpacking plant. It was rigged with explosives.”
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My knees buckled. “Christopher…”
“He’s alive,” Dante said quickly, catching my arm. “But he’s pinned down. And Lorenzo Mancuso just sent a message to the open radio frequency. They know about this safehouse, Emily. They are coming for you right now.”
