Chapter 6 - The Chase on the Tarmac
The private aviation terminal at Midway International Airport was bathed in the harsh glare of floodlights against a midnight sky. A sleek, twin-engine Gulfstream jet sat idling on the tarmac, its turbine engines whining with a low, continuous roar that shook the chain-link perimeter fence.
Julian Vance hurried across the wet pavement, his trench coat flapping in the jet stream, clutching a leather briefcase tightly against his chest. He had just cleared private security via a heavily bribed dispatcher and was only thirty seconds away from freedom.
Just get on the plane, Julian thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. Once I hit international airspace, Dante can't touch me.
He reached the bottom of the retractable airstair and grabbed the handrail.
"Going somewhere, Julian?"
The voice cut through the roar of the jet engines like a blade of ice.
Julian froze. He turned his head slowly. Emerging from the shadows near the hangar doors was Dante Thorne, walking at a measured, unhurried pace. Flanking him on either side were Tony and two heavily armed associates. But it was what walked beside Dante that made Julian’s blood run completely cold.
It was Nero.
The massive Cane Corso strode forward on four powerful legs, his muscular frame radiating raw, coiled power. His left ear—the scarred one—was cocked slightly forward, his amber eyes locked directly onto Julian with an intensity that promised absolute devastation. The sedative had worn off completely, leaving the hound faster, stronger, and infinitely more furious than before.
"Dante," Julian stammered, stumbling backward up the first step of the stairs. "This... this is a misunderstanding. The board authorized—"
"The board authorized nothing," Dante said, stopping twenty feet away from the aircraft. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze as cold as winter stone. "You broke the cardinal rule, Julian. You brought an innocent person into our war, and you raised a hand against my family."
"You can't touch me here! Federal marshals are monitoring—"
"Federal marshals are currently reviewing a complete, unencrypted data package detailing every offshore account, bribe, and drug trafficking conduit you've operated for the past five years," Dante interrupted smoothly. "They won't be arriving to protect you, Julian. They'll be arriving to collect what's left of your miserable career."
Julian panicked. He turned and lunged for the aircraft door, grabbing the handle—
In a blur of black muscle and furious momentum, Nero launched himself off the tarmac.
The one-hundred-and-forty-pound dog cleared the distance in a single, terrifying leap, slamming his massive forepaws directly against the metal hull of the stairs just inches below Julian’s feet. Nero didn't bark. He let out a deep, chest-shaking growl that resonated across the entire runway.
Julian shrieked, losing his footing and tumbling backward down the metal steps, landing hard on the wet pavement. His briefcase flew open, scattering thousands of dollars in bearer bonds and encrypted flash drives across the wet asphalt.
Nero stood over him, one massive paw planted squarely on Julian’s chest, his razor-sharp teeth bared just inches from the terrified man's throat. The dog didn't bite. He didn't need to. The sheer, overwhelming dominance of the beast was enough to make Julian curl into a fetal position and begin sobbing openly on the tarmac.
May you like
Tony walked over, calmly picking up one of the scattered flash drives and slipping it into his pocket. He looked down at Julian with absolute contempt.
"Flights cancelled, Julian," Tony said dryly.
