Chapter 22
A soft, mechanical click echoed through the private study as the false mahogany bookcase swung outward on concealed hydraulic hinges. Inside the reinforced panic room, Maya flinched violently. Her maternal instincts flared, and she immediately pulled Sophia behind her, shielding the little girl with her own body as her muscles locked in terror. But the moment Dante’s towering, broad-shouldered silhouette crossed the threshold into the bright light, the breath she had been holding rushed out in a trembling gasp.
Dante stepped inside. The moment his gaze found Sophia, the murderous aura dissipating from his frame was replaced by a raw, clumsy tenderness. He dropped slowly to one knee, bringing his eyes level with his daughter.
"It's over, Sophia," Dante murmured, his gravelly voice remarkably soft. "The house is clean."
Maya studied his dark dress shirt. He had discarded his tactical jacket, yet the sharp scents of cordite, ozone, and cold rain still clung to him. "Did you find out where she is?" she asked in a low whisper, keeping her voice carefully measured so as not to alarm the child.
"Elena is alive," Dante said, his gray eyes locking onto Maya with an intensity that made her chest tighten. "She is waiting at a safehouse in Montauk. She was never taken... she staged the ambush to break away, leaving behind the drive to expose Luca."
At the sound of her mother’s name, Sophia’s brown eyes widened. She stepped out from behind Maya’s legs, her tiny fingers tentatively brushing Dante’s sleeve. "Mommy... we find Mommy?"
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A hitch caught in Dante’s throat. He reached out and gathered his daughter into his arms, pulling her small frame against his broad chest. For the first time in four agonizing days, Sophia did not pull away. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, seeking comfort. Dante looked up at Maya, his hardened gaze softening into an earnest, desperate plea. "I need you to come with us, Maya. Sophia won't get into that car without you. And Elena needs to see her daughter unharmed."
Maya looked at the fragile child clinging to the kingpin, then back into Dante's pleading eyes. She knew she was stepping deeper into a dangerous world, but turning her back was impossible. "I'll go," she said softly.
