Chapter 3 - A Little Voice in the Dark
Dante’s hand gripped the phone with enough force to crack the glass. The absolute, unadulterated terror in the child's voice struck a chord deep within him—a echo of his own childhood when he had stood over his failing mother, begging her to open her eyes.
"Where are you, little girl?" Dante demanded, his voice dropping its icy edge, replaced by an urgent, commanding authority.
"In our bed... Mommy is cold. Please don't let the angry man hurt her. Are you the angry man?" Lily cried, her breathing shallow.
Valeria watched Dante, her eyes narrowing. "Dante, what is it? Hang up. Let Marcus handle whatever game she's playing."
Dante ignored Valeria entirely. "Marcus!" he roared toward the open door. The towering head of security stepped into the room instantly. "Trace Clara Hayes's current address. Now. Get the car ready."
"Dante, you're being ridiculous," Valeria hissed, stepping in front of him. "She's manipulating you. A sick child? It's the oldest trick in the book for a late employee."
Dante looked at Valeria, and for the first time, a flicker of deep distaste crossed his features. "If she is lying, she loses her job. If she is not, and I do nothing, a child dies. Stand aside, Valeria."
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Within seven minutes, Dante’s armored SUV was tearing through the gray, morning streets of the city's lower-income district. Sitting in the back seat, Dante kept the line open. He could hear Lily’s soft, hitching breaths and the terrifying, ragged wheeze of Clara’s failing lungs in the background. As a man who dealt in death every day, Dante recognized the sound of a human being suffocating on their own air.
"Stay on the phone, Lily," Dante said, his voice surprisingly gentle, a tone Marcus had never heard the ruthless mafia boss use in his entire life. "I am coming. I am almost there."
