Chapter 23
The Russo compound was an anthill of lethal efficiency. Under the ruthless command of Matteo—the sole lieutenant Dante trusted implicitly after Luca’s betrayal—the syndicate underwent a silent, merciless cleansing. Eight guards tied to Luca’s payroll were disarmed without a sound and marched into the subterranean cells. Sniper teams on the perimeter wall locked down the surrounding private roads, intercepting two unmarked surveillance vans parked near the wooded tree line.
Maya stood beside the second-floor grand arched window, holding Sophia’s hand. In the courtyard below, three matte-black armored SUVs were idling quietly, their heavy diesel engines rumbling through the damp pavement as they prepped for the hundred-mile dash across Long Island.
"Miss Bennett," a low, steady voice spoke from behind. Dante walked into the room, holding a thick, dark shearling coat. "The ocean wind at Montauk cuts deep at night. Put this on."
Maya took the coat, feeling the luxurious weight and the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne woven into the wool. "Thank you, Mr. Russo."
"Dante," he corrected quietly, his eyes lingering on her tired face. "I know I dragged you into a nightmare. Tonight, you should have been closing down Bellanote, counting your tip jar and planning your bakery. Instead, you’re caught in the crossfire of a mafia war. I owe you a debt I can never fully repay, Maya."
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"I’m doing this for Sophia," Maya replied honestly, looking down at the little girl who was currently leaning against her thigh, clutching her hand. "No five-year-old should ever have to witness what she saw. And as for the bakery... once she is safe in her mother's arms, I will earn it with my own two hands."
A rare, faint smirk touched the corner of Dante’s rugged mouth. Her unwavering pride and moral compass struck a chord in a man accustomed to buying loyalty with bloodshed. "We leave now," he said, extending his hand to guide them downstairs.
