Chapter 3 - Ink and Blood
I stared at the manila envelope for three long seconds before my fingers reached out to untie the red string. The paper was heavy, cold to the touch. Inside lay a single sheaf of legal documents—not syndicate records, not offshore bank statements, but a certificate of incorporation and a portfolio of real estate deeds.
I flipped through them, my eyes scanning the corporate names and tax identification numbers.
"What is this?" I asked, though my throat had suddenly gone dry.
"It's a clean break," Marcus said, leaning against the metal shelving unit, crossing his arms. "Or at least, that's what Dante called it before he locked himself in his study and stopped talking to the council entirely. Those properties—three commercial blocks in downtown Seattle and a shipping terminal in Tacoma—are deeded entirely in your name, free and clear of any Valerio holdings. Taxes paid for the next ten years."
I looked up from the papers, staring at Marcus in disbelief. "This is worth tens of millions of dollars. Why would he give me this? To buy my silence?"
"Dante doesn't buy silence with real estate, Dana. He buys it with cement shoes," Marcus said flatly. "That portfolio was transferred out of his private reserve three months before you and he ever had that fight in the study. Long before Celeste Fiore arrived in New York."
The room seemed to tilt slightly. "Three months before?"
"That's right," Marcus nodded. "He knew the council was moving against him. He knew that keeping you close in that penthouse was painting a target on your back. When he told you that you meant nothing, when he looked you in the eye and played the cold, ruthless boss, he wasn't trying to humiliate you for fun. He was cutting the cord. He was pushing you out of the house before the roof collapsed."
The pieces shifted in my mind, violently rearranging themselves like shards of colored glass in a kaleidoscope. All those nights he pushed me away, the sudden coldness, the calculated insults—they weren't signs of indifference. They were armor. He had constructed a persona so toxic, so repulsive, that when I finally walked out, I wouldn't look back. I wouldn't try to save him.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head as the denial rose up to protect me. "No, that doesn't fit. If he wanted me safe, why did he let the Rossi family think I had his master key? Why is he hunting me right now?"
"He isn't hunting you, Dana," Marcus said softly. "The Rossi family is. They found out about the asset transfer. They think you hold the keys to his entire empire, and they want to use you to break him. Dante is tearing New York apart not to find you, but to find the Rossi cell that tracked you here to Oregon. I'm here because I got to you fifty miles before their hit squad did."
As if on cue, the faint, distant sound of tires crunching on gravel echoed down from the street level above the basement stairwell.
Marcus’s head snapped toward the door. His hand slipped smoothly inside his coat, resting against the grip of a suppressed automatic.
May you like
"They're here," Marcus murmured, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that brooked no argument. "Now, Dana. Do you want to run back to your cabin and pretend you're a civilian, or are you going to pick up your laptop and help me finish the audit?"
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