Chapter 7 - The Trap
Dante wrapped his massive arms around Elena, holding her tightly against his chest, completely ignoring the tears soaking his black shirt.
"I never wanted anyone else," Dante swore, kissing the top of her head. "Marcus is a dead man."
He didn't pull her out of the room yet. He knew Marcus was highly connected, and if the underboss sensed danger, he would flee the city immediately. Dante needed the traitor to walk blindly into his own execution.
"Stay here for exactly ten more minutes," Dante whispered to his wife. "I am going to bring the monster to you."
Dante walked out of the west wing, locking the heavy mahogany doors behind him. He smoothed down his black shirt, erasing every single trace of emotion from his hardened face.
He walked directly into the grand dining room.
Marcus was standing near the long mahogany table, wearing his signature tailored grey suit, reviewing a stack of cartel shipping manifests.
"Marcus," Dante said smoothly, his voice devoid of any lethal edge.
"Boss," Marcus smiled, turning around. "The Miami shipment clears customs at midnight. We're looking at a ten-million-dollar profit."
"Excellent work," Dante replied casually. "Walk with me. I need to check the security feeds in the west wing. The alarm tripped this morning."
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Marcus’s smile faltered for a fraction of a micro-second, but he quickly recovered his arrogant composure. "Of course, Boss. Probably just a faulty sensor."
👉 Marcus thought he was walking into a routine security check, but he was actually walking directly to his own grave.
