CHAPTER 4
"Keep her in this reinforced bunker," Dante instructed the medic, turning his intense, dark gaze back onto Maya’s wide, terrified eyes. "Do not open these blast doors for anyone other than me."
"Dante, please!" Maya called out, reaching toward him with trembling fingers, her voice filled with an unexpected wave of desperate concern for her captor. "Damon won't care how many men die tonight! He has unlimited offshore capital and connections that reach all the way to Washington!"
Dante paused at the heavy steel threshold, offering her a slow, terrifyingly confident smile that sent an involuntary shiver straight down her spine.
"Damon Cross has money, little ghost," Dante whispered softly, his tone laced with lethal absolute certainty. "I have the entire underground of New York City, and I don't give second chances."
The heavy blast doors hissed shut, sealing Maya safely inside the concrete bunker while the muffled, distant rumbles of heavy explosions echoed from the grounds above.
For forty-five suffocating minutes, Maya watched the tactical screens as Dante Moretti moved like an unstoppable force through the burning forest surrounding his estate.
He didn't just defend his home; he systematically dismantled the Sokolov assault squad with terrifying, clinical military precision, cutting off their retreat and neutralizing every attacker.
When the smoke finally cleared over the scorched driveway, not a single Russian vehicle remained functional, and the threat to the estate was utterly extinguished.
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The blast doors hissed open once again, revealing Dante standing in the entryway, wiping a streak of dark soot from his cheek, completely uninjured and untouched by the carnage above.
He walked straight toward Maya, holding out a sleek, modern smartphone that displayed a live, encrypted video feed of a luxurious Manhattan penthouse suite.
