Chapter 4 - SHADOWS AT THE DOOR
Three months after Ellie’s accidental invasion of the downstairs office, the fragile peace began to fray.
It started with small things. Strange men lingering outside the restaurant’s back alley, watching the delivery bays. Whispers among the kitchen staff about rival syndicates testing Dante’s territory. Lena didn't pay much attention to the underworld politics until a rainy Tuesday evening when the restaurant closed early.
Lena was up on the fifth floor, packing Ellie’s bag, when the security alarm system softly chimed—not an emergency klaxon, but a silent perimeter alert.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door to the fifth-floor suite burst open.
Dante stood in the doorway. His black suit jacket was gone, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a dark smear of blood stained his forearm. His expression was a mask of cold, lethal fury.
“Mr. Vance?” Lena gasped, clutching Ellie to her chest. “What’s happening?”
“Get down,” Dante ordered sharply, locking the heavy reinforced door behind him and punching a digital security code into the wall panel that dropped steel shutters over the windows. “A rival crew tried to make a move on the back loading dock. They know the layout of the building.”
“Are we safe here?” Lena asked, her voice trembling as Ellie whimpered at the sudden tension in the room.
Dante walked toward them, his sharp eyes scanning the suite before locking onto Lena. For a second, the lethal predator vanished, replaced by a man looking at the only two things in the world that mattered to him. He knelt down so he was eye-level with Ellie, who immediately reached out a tiny hand and patted his stubbled cheek.
Dante actually smiled—a small, genuine expression that softened his harsh features. “They’ll never get through the lower bulkheads. My men have already cornered them. But I’m not taking any chances. You two are staying right here until I clear the building.”
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Before Lena could reply, a violent crash echoed from the stairwell outside the fifth-floor door.
Dante’s body went rigid. In a flash of motion, he drew a sleek, suppressed firearm from his shoulder holster, stepping smoothly in front of Lena and the baby. The door handle rattled violently, followed by the heavy thud of a boot kicking against the reinforced wood.
