Page 35 of Devil’s Gambit

I grab Tommy by his throat, feeling his pulse racing against my palm. I lift him from the chair—he's lighter than he looks, fear making him weightless—and throw him across the desk. Papers scatter like startled birds, a glass paperweight shattering on the floor with a musical crash.

"Fucking traitor."

He lands hard, gasping, the wind knocked from his lungs, but somehow still manages to fix his hair. Even now, appearance matters to him, regardless of my gun pointed at his face.

"How could I not betray you?" He spits the words along with blood from where he bit his tongue. "You've lost it, Dante. Killing Lorenzo over nothing? Over words? At least Sal knows how to keep his bitch properly leashed."

My foot connects with his face. His nose breaks, the crunch traveling up my leg like electricity. Blood immediately flows, coating his perfect teeth, turning his designer shirt into abstract art.

"Fuck you, Dante." He spits blood and tries to crawl away, leaving red handprints on the white marble floor.

I launch a kick to his ribs. Something cracks. "Where's your master hiding? Where's the coward who can't face me?"

"Too smart—" He coughs out more blood, darker now. "Too smart to wait around for you to paint his walls with brain matter."

"Call him." I press the Glock to his temple, the metal leaving a perfect circle impression. "Now. Or I'll paint Sal's desk with yours."

Tommy's hands shake as he pulls out his phone, blood from his nose dripping onto the screen, making it slippery. He dials and puts it on speaker with fingers that won't stop trembling.

"Tommy?" Sal's voice fills the room, casual, almost amused. "How's my welcome party for Dante going?"

I take the phone, gripping it hard enough to crack the case. "Hiding like the bitch you always were, Sal?"

"Dante." He laughs, the sound making my jaw clench until my teeth ache. "You always were too predictable. Turn on the news, would you?"

I glance at the TV Tommy was watching. My stomach drops through the floor.

It's my house. My mansion. Surrounded by FBI vehicles, agents in tactical gear swarming like ants, yellow tape already going up. The ticker at the bottom reads: "FEDERAL RAID ON SUSPECTED CRIME BOSS—DOZENS OF ARRESTS EXPECTED."

"You lost this war the moment you involved the feds," Sal continues, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Your empire's done. Your father's legacy ended by a pussy-whipped son."

"This war was never about empire." I keep my voice steady despite the rage building, despite wanting to reach through the phone and tear his throat out. "It was about Bella. And I have her. She's mine."

"Do you?"

The question hangs there, simple and devastating.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Two steps ahead, Dante. Always two steps ahead. Soon enough, Bella will be back in my bed. Begging for it. Crying my name. And maybe I'll let you watch while I remind her who she really belongs to. While I fuck her the way she likes it—rough, mean, until she can't walk."

"Keep dreaming, asshole. Bella's safe with me. Protected. Loved."

"Safe?" His laugh turns darker. "With Paulie? At your grandfather's old farm?"

The words hit like frozen blood. How could he know? The location was need-to-know?—

"Surprised? You're not the only one with eyes everywhere. But here's a parting gift—Tommy. Consider him my donation to the fall of the Caruso empire."

"Wait, what?" Tommy scrambles to his knees, face a mask of blood and terror. "Sal, what the fuck?—"

"You're a rat, Tommy. Rats get exterminated." The line goes dead.

Tommy looks at me, then at Rodriguez, real fear in his eyes now. The kind of fear that comes when you realize everyone has played you.

"We can work this out. You need my surveillance network. I know things, I have access?—"

I check the Glock's magazine. Still plenty of rounds. Enough for what needs doing.

Lorenzo flashes through my mind. Another man who served me, whom I killed for speaking about Bella. The parallels are obvious—both betrayed me, both said the wrong thing about the woman I love. But Lorenzo's death was rage. This is a necessity. This is love.

"Rodriguez." Tommy turns desperate, blood and snot mixing on his face. "I hired you. Pulled you out of that shithole bar where you were drinking yourself to death. Gave you purpose. You owe me."

Rodriguez looks at the wall, studying a painting of some old Italian countryside. His silence says everything.

"Please." Tommy's voice drops to a whisper. "I have money. Information. I can help you fight the feds?—"

I think of Bella. The way she looked at me when I tied her to that chair—betrayed but still loving me underneath the anger. Every death today is for her. Every soul I damn secures her safety. Tommy's is another sacrifice on the altar of her protection.

The gunshot echoes in the office. Tommy falls forward, a hole in his forehead matching Eddie's. Another life I've taken today. Another man who served me, dead by my hand. The regret tastes like bile, and I hate myself for feeling it.

But it's worth it. For Bella, everything is worth it.

"Get everyone back to the vehicles," I tell Rodriguez, stepping over Tommy's corpse. "We're going to the farm. Now."

Rodriguez nods, already on his phone, but I see the question in his eyes. The doubt. He's wondering if I've lost it, if this obsession with one woman is worth the empire crumbling.

It is. God help me, it is.

I look at the TV one more time. Federal agents are carrying boxes out of my house. Evidence. Files. The empire my father built with blood and bullets, that I expanded with careful violence—dissolving in real-time.

I feel... nothing.

No, that's not true. I feel relief. I feel purpose.

The empire can burn. The money can disappear. The feds can have it all.

I have Bella. Or I will, once I get to that farm and deal with whatever trap Sal thinks he's set. Once I prove that every death today was justified, was necessary, was love in its purest form—willing to destroy everything for her safety.

The sun breaks through the clouds as we head for the vehicles. Blood on gravel looks almost beautiful in this light, like scattered rubies. The manor windows reflect our retreat, and I wonder if Sal's watching, thinking he's won.

He hasn't.

Rodriguez falls into step beside me. "The farm's an hour away if we push it."

"Then we push it."

Cold fear settles in my chest as we drive away from Sal's manor, tires screaming against asphalt. Paulie's face floats in my mind—that empty smile, that particular brand of insanity that doesn't follow rules or loyalty or logic.

Bella's alone with him.

I press harder on the accelerator, the speedometer climbing past ninety, past one hundred. All I can think about is her expression when I left. The betrayal in her eyes. The rage.

She'll understand. Once Sal is dead, once we're free, she'll understand that everything I did was for her.

I've killed five men today in her name. And I'm just getting started.