Chapter 7 - The Exit Strategy
Before I could form a reply, the heavy mahogany doors at the back of the grand ballroom swung open with a sharp, echoing snap, and two uniformed hotel security guards—flanked by a pair of serious-looking men in federal windbreakers—strode purposefully down the center aisle.
The entire room parted for them like wheat before a scythe.
Bennett tried to back away from his table, his chair tipping over backward with a loud, ringing crash against the parquet floor. But the federal agents moved with terrifying efficiency, closing the distance before he could take three steps toward the service exit.
“Mr. Bennett Hale?” the lead agent asked, flashing a gold badge that caught the harsh light of the crystal chandelier. “You’re coming with us for questioning regarding interstate wire fraud and the illegal diversion of Moretti Logistics assets.”
“This is a setup! It’s a setup!” Bennett screamed, thrashing wildly as the cold steel cuffs snapped onto his wrists with a metallic click that sent a shiver straight down my spine. He glared across the room at me, his face twisted in pure, desperate venom. “You planned this! You and your little mobster friend planned this from the very beginning, Marin!”
I didn't flinch. I didn't smile, and I didn't offer him the satisfaction of a single word of defense. I simply looked at him with a quiet, hollow pity that seemed to hurt him far more than any insult could have.
My mother let out a sharp, choked sob and collapsed back into her chair, her diamond earrings catching the light as she buried her face in her manicured hands. Celeste had already vanished into the crowd, slipping out through the side doors like a ghost leaving a sinking ship.
Dante didn't wait to watch them drag Bennett toward the service elevators. He simply curled his fingers more firmly around my arm, his tall, broad frame shielding me from the sea of gaping faces and whispered gossip.
“Let’s go, Marin,” he said softly, guiding me backward toward the grand archway.
May you like
As we stepped out of the suffocating heat of the ballroom and into the quiet, cool marble hallway of the Hawthorne Hotel, the heavy oak doors closed behind us, cutting off the noise of a world that would never look at me the same way again.
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