Chapter 7 - The Broken Thugs
The lead thug charged forward, thrusting the sparking stun gun directly toward Dante’s chest.
He never even made contact.
With blinding, terrifying speed, Dante sidestepped the attack. He grabbed the thug’s extended wrist, twisted it with bone-crushing force, and violently drove his knee directly into the man’s ribs. A sickening crunch echoed through the dark bedroom as the massive enforcer collapsed to the floor in sheer agony.
The other two men panicked, pulling heavy steel batons from their scrubs.
Dante didn't back down. He moved with cold, surgical, and utterly ruthless precision. He wasn't fighting to win; he was fighting to absolutely destroy the men who thought they could abduct his mother.
Within ninety seconds, the bedroom was completely silent again.
All three thugs were incapacitated, groaning on the expensive Persian rug, their weapons scattered, their bodies completely broken by the apex predator they had foolishly underestimated.
Dante didn't even have a scratch on him. He calmly rolled down his dark shirt sleeves, buttoned his cuffs, and adjusted his collar.
He grabbed the lead thug by the collar of his white scrubs, effortlessly dragging his heavy, bleeding body out of the bedroom and toward the grand staircase.
Downstairs in the dining room, Victoria was sitting tied to a gold chair, trembling violently in the candlelight. She was praying her men had successfully subdued Dante.
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Suddenly, a heavy body was violently thrown down the marble stairs, landing directly at her feet.
👉 Victoria looked down at the broken mercenary, and her final, desperate shred of hope completely evaporated.
