Chapter 8 - The Syndicate's Justice
Dante raised his phone and dialed a heavily encrypted number.
"Call the Russian syndicate," Dante ordered his head of security. "Tell them Vanessa was the corporate consultant who intentionally leaked their shipping manifests to the FBI last year to cover her own embezzlement. Tell them she’s sitting in the hospital parking garage right now. Let the wolves handle the thief."
Vanessa let out a guttural, agonizing shriek of pure, apocalyptic terror.
"No! They'll kill me! They'll torture me!" Vanessa wailed, thrashing wildly on the floor.
The massive enforcers didn't care. They hauled the screaming, weeping traitor to her feet by the straps of her red evening gown. They dragged her down the corridor, her pathetic, humiliated screams echoing through the VIP wing until the heavy glass doors slammed shut, permanently swallowing her toxic existence into violent darkness.
The threat was entirely neutralized. The empire was secure.
The chaotic, violent energy completely evaporated from the golden-lit hospital corridor.
Dante took a deep, steadying breath. He slipped his phone back into his tailored black suit. He turned away from the empty hallway and focused entirely on the woman standing in the doorway of the examination room.
Emily was trembling, overwhelmed by the massive adrenaline dump and the sheer reality that she was finally, truly safe.
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Dante walked slowly back toward her, his dark eyes filled with a profound, overwhelming guilt and an incredibly deep, protective love.
👉 Dante dropped to his knees, preparing to deliver the apology that would begin to heal their shattered lives.
