Chapter 3 - The Hallway of Glass and Bullets
Before the thug could pull the trigger, Valerio closed the distance between them like a freight train.
His heavy leather shoe slammed into the center of the gunman’s chest with bone-crushing force, lifting the massive man off his feet and sending him crashing backward through a decorative stained-glass window. Shards of colored glass rained down the concrete service stairwell like glittering diamonds mixed with crimson.
Ignatio stepped forward instantly, firing two suppressed shots downward into the stairwell to neutralize any secondary threats before sweeping the landing.
“Boss, hallway clear!” Ignatio barked over the echoes of the silenced gunfire.
Valerio didn't answer. His entire world narrowed down to the woman sliding down the wall against the floral wallpaper.
Danica was gasping for air, her hands clutching her bruised shoulder. Her stunning emerald silk dress was torn slightly at the seam, and a smudge of soot and blood stained the fine fabric near her waist. Her dark hair had partially come unpinned, falling in thick, soft waves around her flushed face.
She looked up, expecting another attacker, but found herself staring into the dark, fierce eyes of the most dangerous man in Chicago.
“Valerio...” she breathed, her voice cracking with a mixture of terror and overwhelming relief.
In two long strides, Valerio was kneeling in front of her. His large, calloused hands hovered gently over her arms, terrified of hurting her further, before cupping her face. His thumb brushed away a tear mixed with sweat from her cheekbone.
“Are you hit?” His voice was rough, stripped of all its usual icy composure, vibrating with an raw intensity that terrified and comforted her all at once.
“No,” she gasped, shaking her head rapidly. “I... I saw them, Valerio. Veto was talking to those men in the lobby. He gave them the floor plans, the security codes, everything. When I came back to grab my clutch from the coat room, I walked in on them... I saw what they did to Oswaldo. I had to warn you.”
Valerio looked down at her blood-stained fingers, realizing the sheer, reckless courage it had taken for her to slip past murderers, grab a bloody napkin, and walk right into the lion’s den to save his life.
A fierce wave of emotion—hot, possessive, and terrifyingly deep—flooded his chest.
“You’re an absolute fool, Danica Merritt,” Valerio growled softly, though his eyes shone with a profound, unmasked adoration. “Walking up to me with a suicide note.”
“I wasn’t going to let them blindside you,” she whispered fiercely, her chin lifting with that same stubborn pride that had captured his heart on day one.
Before Valerio could reply, the heavy metal fire doors at the far end of the service corridor slammed open.
“Boss! They’re coming up the service stairs—at least six armed men from the Felicity crew!” Ignatio yelled, leaning around the corner and firing a controlled double-tap down the corridor as plaster chips exploded from the wall above his head.
Valerio stood up instantly, pulling Danica up with him. He didn't hesitate. He scooped her up effortlessly into his arms, bridal-style, ignoring the protest of her heels as she gasped and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck for support.
“Hold on to me, Danica,” Valerio commanded, his jaw set like granite.
“Valerio, I can run—”
“Quiet. Hold on.”
With Danica clutched securely against his chest, his custom 1911 pistol held firmly in his right hand, Valerio charged down the corridor toward the private executive elevators—the one escape route Veto’s men wouldn't expect because it required a biometric override linked exclusively to Valerio’s own pulse and fingerprint.
Footsteps thundered behind them. Automatic gunfire chewed up the wooden doorframes, sending splinters flying into the air. A stray bullet grazed the wall inches from Valerio’s shoulder, but he didn't even flinch.
Ignatio laid down suppressing fire behind them, buying them precious seconds as they reached the recessed private elevator alcove.
Valerio slammed his palm against the hidden biometric scanner embedded in the brass wall panel.
BEEP.
The red security light blinked green. The heavy steel doors slid open with a smooth, pneumatic hiss.
Ignatio backed into the elevator car just as a barrage of lead ricocheted off the marble floor. Valerio stepped inside, shielding Danica completely with his own broad shoulders and body.
“Go!” Valerio roared, pressing the sub-basement override button.
The heavy steel doors slammed shut just as the first wave of Veto’s assassins rounded the corner, their suppressed weapons hammering uselessly against the thick, bulletproof exterior of the closing elevator doors.
Inside the quiet, descending car, the only sound was the heavy, ragged breathing of three survivors.
Danica pressed her face into the lapel of Valerio’s charcoal jacket, her body trembling as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind the stark reality of what had just occurred.
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Valerio wrapped one strong arm around her waist, holding her so tightly against him that she could feel the powerful, steady beat of his heart. His other hand kept his pistol raised toward the digital floor indicator, his eyes fixed on the display as they plummeted downward toward the underground parking garage.
The war for Chicago had officially begun. And Valerio Castellion was about to show his traitorous brother what happened to men who tried to steal what belonged to him.
