Chapter 5 – THE FIRE AND THE FALL

Dante didn’t draw a weapon. He didn’t have time.

He handed Lucy to Grace in one swift motion, pushing them both behind the heavy oak serving buffet.

Then, Dante launched himself forward.

Silvio was halfway to the fireplace when Dante hit him like a freight train. The impact sent both men crashing over a glass dining table. Crystal shattered into a thousand glittering pieces as they hit the marble floor.

Silvio’s gun skittered across the room, disappearing beneath a heavy velvet curtain.

The six traitorous guards raised their weapons, but they couldn’t fire. Dante and Silvio were locked in a brutal, rolling brawl, moving too fast. If the guards shot, they risked killing the man who was paying them.

“Get the necklace!” Silvio roared at his men, blood pouring from a cut above his eye as Dante drove a vicious punch into his jaw.

Two guards broke away from the circle and sprinted toward the blazing fireplace.

Grace watched from behind the buffet. Her heart hammered in her ears. She knew the microdot inside the silver cross was the only leverage they had. If it melted, Silvio’s crimes disappeared with it.

“Stay down, Lucy. Cover your ears,” Grace whispered fiercely.

She didn’t wait for the little girl’s nod.

Grace scrambled out from behind the buffet, grabbing a heavy silver water pitcher from the wreckage of the dining table.

As the first guard reached his hand toward the flames, Grace swung the heavy pitcher with everything she had. It struck the back of the guard’s knee. He bellowed in pain, collapsing onto the marble hearth.

The second guard turned, raising his pistol at Grace.

But before he could pull the trigger, a loud, authoritative voice echoed from the terrace doors.

“Drop the weapons, or you all die right now!”

The remaining loyal members of Dante’s security force—the men who had been stationed outside on the perimeter—burst through the shattered glass doors. They poured into the dining room, heavily armed and aiming directly at Silvio’s traitors.

Arthur Sterling, the old man who had fled earlier, was dragged in by his collar, completely subdued by Dante’s loyalists.

The traitorous guards froze, realizing they were vastly outnumbered. Slowly, one by one, they dropped their guns, raising their hands in surrender.

But Silvio wasn’t finished.

With a roar of desperate rage, Silvio kicked Dante in the chest, pushing the Mafia Boss backward just enough to scramble to his feet.

Silvio didn’t go for his gun. He lunged directly at Grace.

He grabbed the young maid by her hair, yanking her violently backward, and wrapped his thick forearm around her throat. He pulled a concealed combat knife from his boot, pressing the cold steel against her jugular.

“Nobody moves!” Silvio screamed, his chest heaving, his scarred face twisted into a mask of pure desperation.

The room went dead still again.

Dante stood up slowly, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. His dark eyes locked onto Silvio, burning with a cold, absolute hatred.

“Let her go, Silvio,” Dante said, his voice dangerously even. “You’ve lost. The microdot is in the fire. Your men are surrounded. It’s over.”

“It’s not over until I walk out of here!” Silvio snarled, backing toward the main foyer doors, dragging Grace with him.

Grace gasped for air, clutching at Silvio’s massive arm. Her feet scrambled for purchase on the marble floor.

Lucy screamed from behind the buffet. “Grace!”

“Keep the kid quiet, or I’ll open her throat!” Silvio yelled.

Dante took a slow step forward. “If you hurt her, Silvio, I won’t just kill you. I will dismantle everything you’ve ever touched. I will erase your name from the earth.”

“Empty threats, Boss,” Silvio sneered, backing into the grand foyer.

He positioned Grace in front of him like a human shield, keeping the knife pressed tightly against her skin.

“Tell your men to bring me a car. Now!” Silvio demanded.

Dante raised his hand, signaling his loyal men to hold their fire. He couldn’t risk a stray bullet hitting Grace.

“Bring the car,” Dante ordered quietly.

Silvio laughed, a ragged, breathless sound. “You’ve gone soft, Dante. The great Mafia Boss, held hostage by his feelings for a stuttering maid. Matteo would be so disappointed.”

Grace struggled, tears of pain welling in her eyes. But as she gripped Silvio’s forearm, her fingers brushed against something hard in his jacket pocket.

It was the silver pocket watch. The one Silvio had taken from Arthur Sterling earlier.

Grace’s mind raced. She remembered the heavy weight of the watch. She remembered the sharp edge of the shattered glass face.

She stopped struggling. She let her body go completely limp, dead-weighting herself in his arms.

The sudden shift caught Silvio off guard. He stumbled slightly, trying to hold her up while maintaining his grip on the knife.

In that split second of imbalance, Grace shoved her hand into his pocket. She grabbed the heavy silver pocket watch and drove the jagged, shattered glass edge directly into the back of Silvio’s knife hand.

Silvio roared in agony. His grip loosened instinctively as the glass sliced his knuckles.

Grace didn’t hesitate. She threw her elbow backward, catching him squarely in the ribs, and dove away from him, hitting the marble floor and rolling out of the line of fire.

Dante didn’t need an invitation.

Before Silvio could raise the knife again, Dante closed the distance. He grabbed Silvio by the throat, driving him backward with the force of a battering ram, and slammed him through the heavy wooden doors of the study.

The sound of shattering wood echoed through the foyer as the two men disappeared into the dark room.

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