Chapter 2 - Rain-Slicked Asphalt and Leather Bindings
The leather-bound ledger felt impossibly heavy hidden inside the folds of my hospital gown, its sharp corners digging into my ribs as Dante’s armored town car carved through the rain-slicked concrete of the interstate. Outside, the neon signs of downtown blurred into long streaks of red and green against the black windshield. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, listening to the steady, rhythmic thrum of the wipers clearing away the relentless downpour.
Dante kept one hand on the steering wheel, his tattooed fingers gripping the leather wrap while his other hand adjusted the climate control to keep the cabin warm. Every few seconds, his eyes darted to the rearview mirror, checking for any sign of following headlights from Sullivan’s security detail. The tension inside the car was thick enough to taste, a heavy mixture of adrenaline and unspoken questions that had been building since we fled the hospital ward.
"You should have told me months ago," Dante said quietly, his voice cutting through the hum of the engine without anger, just a deep, resonant gravity. "You didn't have to face Arthur alone."
"You would have gone to war," I replied, my voice raspy as I shifted in the leather seat, pulling the heavy ledger out from beneath my gown and resting it on my lap. "A real war. The kind that leaves bodies in boardrooms and alleys. I thought if I could just steal his financial records—if I could find the offshore accounts linking his shell companies to the dock syndicates—he’d have to back off. I didn't know he would find out so fast."
Dante glanced sideways, his dark gaze dropping to the worn leather tome resting between us. "That book is his entire life's work. Every bribe, every extortion payment, every politician in his pocket is documented inside those pages."
"Which is exactly why he sent men to my apartment," I murmured, shivering as the memory of the shattered glass and heavy hands pressing me against the wall rushed back. "He knew I copied the master files before the audit."
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Dante reached out, resting his warm, heavy hand over mine on top of the ledger. The ink on his fingers caught the dashboard light, tracing intricate patterns against my pale skin. "He won't get a chance to finish what he started. Once Marcus gets these pages decrypted at the safehouse, Sullivan won't have enough money or lawyers to keep himself out of federal custody."
I nodded slowly, letting out a long, shuddering breath I felt like I'd been holding for days. The car accelerated down an unlit exit ramp, plunging deeper into the industrial district toward the safety of the reinforced loft.
