Chapter 9 - The Execution
Marcus’s hand barely grazed the handle of his gun.
With blinding, lethal speed, Dante lunged forward. His massive hand clamped directly onto Marcus’s throat, violently slamming the traitor backward into the heavy mahogany doors. The impact rattled the expensive wood.
Marcus gasped for air, his feet dangling an inch off the floor, his face turning a deep, ugly shade of purple under the mafia boss’s crushing grip.
"You stole two years of my life," Dante whispered directly into Marcus’s ear, completely deaf to the man's pathetic, choking apologies. "You tortured my wife. You are going to die in the exact same fire you started."
Dante didn't snap his neck. He violently threw the suffocating traitor onto the hard marble floor.
He signaled to his elite, loyal security guards, who had silently surrounded the hallway.
"Take him to the old warehouse," Dante commanded coldly, completely devoid of mercy. "Drain his offshore accounts. Liquidate his assets. Then burn the building to the ground with him inside."
"No! Dante! Please!" Marcus shrieked hysterically, thrashing wildly as four massive guards violently grabbed his arms and dragged him away.
His desperate, pathetic screams echoed down the corridor until the heavy front doors slammed shut, swallowing his toxic arrogance into ruin forever. The threat was completely neutralized.
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Dante turned around and walked slowly down the hallway. He gently took the gun from Elena’s shaking hands, pulled her into a desperate embrace, and finally carried his wife out of the dark west wing and back into the light.
👉 The empire was finally secure, leaving Dante to reward the tiny hero who had saved his soul.
