Chapter 4 - The Knock at the Door
The knock came again—three slow, deliberate thuds that seemed to shake the plaster dust from the ceiling.
Mave froze, her coffee mug suspended halfway to her mouth.
Dante didn't panic. In a single, fluid motion that defied his severe injuries, he slid a heavy, suppressed automatic pistol from the small of his back—retrieved from a hidden holster beneath his ruined jacket—and clicked the safety off with a soft snick.
"Get behind the counter," Dante whispered, his voice like the edge of a razor.
"Open up, Mave! I know you're in there!" a raspy, familiar voice called through the wood. "Carmichael's been blowing up my phone asking why you didn't show for the morning shift!"
Mave let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. "It's just Leo. The morning prep cook."
Dante didn't lower the gun. "How well do you know him?"
"Well enough to know he can't lie to save his life," Mave hissed back, stepping past Dante before he could stop her. She unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open a crack, keeping the security chain latched.
Leo stood in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway, holding a greasy brown paper bag smelling of fresh doughnuts and black coffee. He looked tired, his apron half-tucked into his belt.
"Hey, kid," Leo said, peering through the gap. "You look like hell. You didn't answer your phone—"
"Leo, you need to go," Mave interrupted, her eyes darting nervously down the empty hallway. "Something came up. I can't come in today."
Leo frowned, his eyes shifting past her shoulder into the dim apartment. He caught sight of the massive Cane Corso standing behind Mave, and then, looming in the shadows like a dark specter, Dante Thorne holding a gun pointed straight at the floorboards.
Leo’s face drained of color. He took an involuntary step backward.
"Mave..." Leo whispered, his voice shaking. "Who the hell is that?"
"He's a guest," Mave said quickly. "Leo, listen to me. Go back to the diner. Tell Carmichael I quit. Tell him I moved to Canada. Just forget you saw me."
"Mave, you're out of your mind," Leo stammered, holding his hands up. "That's Dante Thorne. Half the city's police force and two different families are looking for him right now. If they find out you're mixed up in this—"
"They already know," a cold, clipped voice echoed from the end of the hallway.
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Mave’s blood ran cold.
From around the corner of the stairwell, two men in identical dark raincoats stepped into view. They didn't look like local thugs. They moved with military precision, and both of them had their hands resting casually inside their coats.
