Chapter 53
The city of Florence was drenched in a freezing, miserable drizzle. Inside a safehouse tucked away in an ancient cobblestone alley near Piazza della Signoria, Sophia was curled up on a sofa, her beautiful brown eyes filled with anxiety. Despite being eighteen, facing the ghosts of the underworld made her feel like a helpless child again. When the heavy iron door opened, Dante walked in. He wore a long, charcoal wool coat concealing a slim Kevlar vest. His face was rigid and cold, but the moment he saw his daughter, his eyes softened instantly. "Daddy!" Sophia rushed forward, throwing her arms around him. "What is going on? Uncle Matteo said someone broke into my room..." "You're safe now, principessa," Dante stroked her hair, kissing her forehead. "I'm here. No one will ever hurt you." Dante signaled for the guards to step outside, keeping only Matteo in the room. "We don't have much time. Antoine is cunning. He knew we would move Sophia to a safehouse. Leaving the hair clip wasn't just a threat; it was a micro-tracker." Matteo froze. He instantly pulled out a high-frequency scanner and swept it over the pearl clip. A tiny red light blinked rapidly. "Damn it!" Matteo cursed. "We led them right to us!" "Exactly," Dante said, drawing his custom sidearm from his shoulder holster. "I let you bring it on purpose. We can't keep running forever. If they want to play the predator, let them step into the cage." Less than five minutes later, the heavy thud of combat boots echoed from the surrounding rooftops. The safehouse’s security cameras suddenly cut out. The entire building plunged into pitch-black darkness. "They cut the power," Matteo said, racking the bolt of his submachine gun. "Take Sophia down to the subterranean vault and lock the blast doors," Dante ordered, his voice as sharp as a scalpel. "Do not open it for anyone but me." Dante stood in the center of the dark living room, his senses dialed to their absolute peak. He hadn't fired a gun in ten years, but the lethal skills forged in blood and fire never truly faded. They had only been hibernating. The oak door was blown inward by a shaped C4 charge. Dust and smoke billowed in. Three assassins dressed in black tactical gear and night-vision goggles rushed in like phantoms. Dante didn't seek cover. He moved with the speed of a true apex predator. Two suppressed shots found the center of the lead assassins' foreheads before they even registered his position. The third panicked and sprayed his weapon wildly, but Dante closed the distance, broke his wrist, and finished him with his own combat knife. The floor was littered with bodies, but Dante knew this was just the prelude.
