Chapter 2 - The Door Comes Down
The heavy wooden door blasted inward with the sound of a gunshot, splitting around the brass lock and crashing flat against the entryway floor. Dust and splinters sprayed across the dim living room.
Inside, two men spun around, reaching into their leather jackets. One was tall with a shaved head and a scarred jaw; the other was wiry, holding a half-empty glass bottle of vodka. In the corner behind an overturned kitchen chair, Anna Carter cowered on the floor, her arms wrapped desperately around Sophie. The little girl had buried her face in her mother's chest, muffling a terrified sob.
Before either man could clear leather, Bruno crossed the threshold like a black-and-tan missile.
Eighty-five pounds of trained military muscle collided with the shaved-head thug, knocking him backward over a glass coffee table. The table shattered into shards as Bruno pinned the man’s gun arm to the floorboards, jaws clamping shut with bone-snapping pressure. The man let out a bloodcurdling scream.
""Drop it!"" Rico barked from Dante's left, leveling a customized Glock at the second man's forehead. Angelo stepped through behind him, his weapon raised, cutting off the escape route to the fire escape.
The wiry man froze, his fingers trembling as he slowly lifted his hands above his head, letting his snub-nosed revolver drop to the rug with a dull thud.
Dante walked into the room calmly, his overcoat unbuttoned, stepping over the ruined doorframe as if he were strolling into a private boardroom. He stopped three feet from Anna, who was staring up at him with wide, saucer-like eyes, shaking so violently her teeth clicked together.
""Quiet the dog, Dante,"" the man on the floor groaned, thrashing beneath Bruno’s massive chest. ""Please! He’s breaking my arm!""
Dante glanced down without an ounce of warmth in his dark eyes. ""Bruno. Stand.""
The Malinois released the man’s sleeve, stepping back just enough to hover his dripping fangs inches from the thug's nose. A low, vibrating growl rumbled in the dog's chest, a warning that any sudden breath would result in a severed throat.
""Who sent you?"" Dante asked.
The bald man spat blood onto the floor. ""You don't own every block in this city, Moretti. Walk away. This is Vance's business. She owes a debt.""
Dante slowly knelt down beside him. He reached out with gloved fingers, taking the man’s lapel and twisting it until the fabric cut off his airflow. ""Let me educate you on geography. Viktor Vance operates on borrowed air because I haven’t felt like stepping on him yet. But this street, this building, and every breath drawn within two square miles of my front door belongs to me.""
Dante leaned closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. ""You broke into an apartment with a five-year-old child inside. You made a dog who survived three tours of explosive detection angry. And most unforgivably, you made a mess on a Tuesday morning.""
Dante nodded slightly to Angelo. ""Take them down to the cellar at the warehouse. Let Enzo ask them where Viktor is keeping the rest of his inventory. Keep it clean.""
""Yes, Boss,"" Angelo said, grabbing the wiry man by the collar and hoisting him up, while Rico cuffed the bleeding man on the floor.
Within two minutes, the hallway was silent again. The apartment smelled of cheap cologne, copper, and spilled alcohol.
Dante turned slowly toward the corner.
Anna Carter was still trembling, clutching Sophie so tightly her knuckles were translucent. The little girl peeked out from under her mother's arm, her big blue eyes blinking through unshed tears. When she saw Dante, she didn't flinch. Then she saw the dog.
""Bruno,"" Sophie whispered, her voice tiny and trembling.
The battle-hardened Belgian Malinois immediately lowered his ears, softened his posture, and took two deliberate steps forward, gently resting his wet nose against the little girl's denim knee. Sophie let out a shaky breath, reaching out a small hand to stroke his fur.
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Anna looked up at Dante, tears cutting clean streaks through the dust on her cheeks. ""You... you're Dante Moretti. The newspapers... they call you—""
""I don't care what the newspapers call me, Miss Carter,"" Dante interrupted smoothly, extending a large, steady hand down to her. ""What matters right now is that the men who just threatened your child won't see daylight again. Now get up. You have five minutes to pack a bag.""
