Chapter 20 - The Open Door
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Lena stood up, wiping her tears, and offered Dante her hands.
He gripped her wrists tightly. His muscles trembled with effort, the veins in his forearms bulging as he pushed himself out of the leather chair.
He didn't lean heavily against her this time. He locked his knees, his jaw tight with concentration. Slowly, deliberately, he let go of her left hand. Then, his right.
Dante stood completely unassisted in the center of the penthouse bedroom.
Lena gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. He was towering, powerful, and whole.
He took one agonizingly slow, shaking step forward toward her.
Before he could take a second, the heavy silence of the suite was shattered by the sharp, jarring ring of Dante’s private, encrypted satellite phone resting on the mahogany desk.
Only three people in the world had that number. Two of them were dead.
Dante froze. He looked at the phone, his brow furrowing in confusion and sudden, dark suspicion. He heavily lowered himself back into his wheelchair and rolled over to the desk, picking up the receiver.
“Speak,” Dante growled.
Lena watched the color drain completely from Dante’s face. The victorious king suddenly looked like a man staring at a ghost.
Through the quiet room, Lena could faintly hear the voice on the other end of the line. It was distorted, mechanical, but dripping with malicious amusement.
“Did you really think Marcus was smart enough to build that bomb seven years ago, little brother? Enjoy your legs while you can. I’m coming home.”
The line went dead.
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Dante slowly lowered the phone, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the plastic. He looked up at Lena, the terrifying realization washing over the room like ice water.
The war wasn't over. The real monster had just woken up.
