Chapter 19 - The Bloodshed
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Dante provided a blistering wall of cover fire, forcing the advancing mercenaries to dive behind the ruined banquet tables.
"Go!" he commanded.
I sprinted across the blood-slicked marble floor, my bare feet slipping on the broken glass, ignoring the searing pain as shards sliced into my skin. I kept the pistol raised, my heart hammering a violent, terrifying rhythm against my ribs.
We burst through the heavy swinging doors of the industrial kitchen.
The room was a maze of stainless-steel counters and abandoned prep stations. Dante slammed the doors shut, wedging a heavy commercial oven rack against the handles to barricade the entrance.
"The service elevator is at the back," Dante pointed, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the labyrinth of stoves.
But as we rounded the corner, three Russian mercenaries stepped out from the walk-in freezer, their weapons raised.
"Drop it, Rosselli," the lead mercenary barked in broken English, a cruel smile twisting his scarred face. "The game is over."
Dante didn't drop his gun. He stepped firmly in front of me, using his own body as an impenetrable human shield.
"Take the shot, Alina," Dante whispered so softly that only I could hear.
The mercenaries laughed, aiming their rifles.
I didn't hesitate. I stepped out from behind Dante’s broad shoulders, raised the compact pistol, and fired three times. The recoil sent a shockwave up my arm, but my aim was tragically true. Two of the mercenaries dropped instantly.
Dante engaged the third, disarming him with a brutal, bone-snapping strike before finishing him off.
The kitchen doors groaned loudly behind us. The barricade was failing. They were breaking through.
"Into the elevator," Dante urged, dragging me into the small, metallic box. He slammed his fist against the emergency override button. The heavy grate slammed shut just as a hail of bullets sparked against the closing metal doors.
We plunged into the darkness of the subterranean parking garage.
Dante slumped against the wall of the elevator, breathing heavily, a dark, spreading stain of red soaking through the white fabric of his tuxedo shirt.
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"Dante!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him, pressing my hands frantically against his bleeding side.
"I'm fine," he gritted out, offering a weak, bloody smile. "I told you... I would protect you."
