Chapter 1 - Blood on the Coastline
The Michelin-starred dining room of L’Aura fell dead silent. Whispers among city officials and socialites dissolved the moment Dante Vance rose from his corner table. Six-foot-three, dark eyes carved from granite, and shirtless beneath an impeccably tailored navy suit jacket, Dante possessed the kind of aura that made grown men look at their shoes.
The seven-year-old girl, Mia, grabbed his rough, calloused fingers. “They took her down by the private docks. Please, mister. She told me to hide under the boardwalk, but I saw them hitting her.”
Dante knelt until his gaze leveled with hers. The ice in his stare melted into something fierce and grounding. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Mia,” she choked out, wiping her cheek with her sleeve.
“You’re safe now, Mia. Stay right beside me.” Dante glanced at his lieutenant, Victor, who was already on his feet, reaching discreetly inside his jacket. “Nobody touches a hair on her. Let’s go.”
They pushed through the heavy glass fire exit, descending concrete service stairs into the damp sea breeze. Below the bluff lay the Marina Club—a secluded strip reserved for luxury yachts and discreet criminal transactions.
Through the fog, Dante spotted them: three men in black windbreakers cornering a woman against a steel shipping crate. Her sapphire silk dress was torn at the shoulder, soaked in ocean spray, dark crimson smeared across her collarbone.
It was Elena. The only woman who had walked away from Dante five years ago, choosing a quiet life over his empire of shadows.
“Back off, Vance!” shouted the tallest man, flicking open a combat blade. “Vargas wants her account codes. Family business. Stay out of it.”
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“You picked the wrong girl,” Dante murmured, his voice lethal and low. “And the wrong night.”
Before the blade could drop, Dante closed the distance like a tempest.
