Chapter 6 - Bloodlines in the Shadows
Dante rushed forward from the double doors, his disciplined posture instantly shifting into urgent action.
"Boss, let me go down!" Dante said, dropping to one knee beside the subterranean opening.
"Get him up here now, Dante!" Salvatore ordered, his deep voice vibrating with uncontained fury and desperation.
Dante swung his broad, muscular frame onto the narrow steel rungs of the ladder without a second's hesitation.
The heavy security suit strained against his back as he descended into the cramped, cold gloom of the underground chamber.
High on the upper landing, Elena came stumbling down the curved marble steps, her silver heels abandoned on the risers.
Her bare feet slapped softly against the cold stone as she wept openly, her hand clutched tight against her bruised chest.
"Marco! Marco, hold on!" she cried, racing to the edge of the open hatch where her father knelt.
Salvatore caught her shoulder gently with one hand, keeping her back from the edge of the hazardous drop.
Below them, Dante reached the concrete floor and wrapped his thick arms securely around Marco's frail torso.
"I've got you, kid," the chief bodyguard murmured softly, his hardened mafia exterior cracking with genuine sorrow.
"You're going home, Marco; the boss is right here," Dante assured him, guiding the young man's trembling boots onto the ladder rungs.
Marco groaned in agony as his stiff, starved joints were forced to bear his own weight for the first time in weeks.
He leaned heavily against Dante's chest, his fingers clutching the bodyguard's black tie like a lifeline.
"She... she locked me in the dark, Dad," Marco whispered upward, his hollow blue eyes locked onto his father's face.
"Every night... she told me you stopped looking for me," Marco choked out, the psychological torture far worse than the hunger.
Salvatore leaned over the rim of the hatch, extending his massive right hand down into the shaft.
Their fingers met in mid-air, calloused skin locking onto trembling, ice-cold bone.
Salvatore pulled with agonizing gentleness, taking his son's weight from Dante's straining shoulders.
"I never stopped, Marco," Salvatore vowed, his vision blurring with rare, unshed tears of blood-red rage.
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"I searched the entire city while the snake was sleeping in our bed," Salvatore growled, his jaw locking like an iron trap.
Across the foyer, the second bodyguard, Marcus, remained vigilant, his hand resting on the holster beneath his suit coat.
