Chapter 2 - The Boy from Ruth's Table
The basement fell into dead, suffocating silence.
Dante froze mid-stride, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes dropped to Tommy's small, upturned face. The boy’s hazel eyes and messy dark curls reflected an innocence that seemed impossible in a room surrounded by armed enforcers.
"Weapons down," Dante commanded, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl. "Every single one of you, stand down and wait at the top of the stairs."
His men holstered their sidearms immediately, retreating up the concrete steps and closing the reinforced door behind them.
Dante walked slowly across the frayed rugs, stopping two feet from where Olivia remained kneeling on the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around Lily and Tommy.
"Ruth Foster raised me," Dante said, his voice raw, looking at the faded picture on the brick wall. "Twenty years ago, when my father was murdered and the syndicate put a contract on my head, Ruth hid me in her attic for eighteen months. She patched my wounds. She fed me when I had nothing. She was the only person in this city who never asked for a dime in return."
He looked down at Olivia, his gaze piercing through her defenses.
"When I took over my father's empire six years ago, I came back to the old house to repay her. The building was empty. The city records claimed she had relocated out of state."
"She didn't relocate," Olivia whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Her clinic was targeted by the Volkov syndicate for extortion. She moved these children underground to protect them from the street wars. When she got sick, she asked me to take the job at your tower. She told me you were ruthless to your enemies, but you never forgot a debt of blood and bread."
Dante crouched down onto the floor, bringing himself down to eye level with Tommy and Lily.
He looked at Tommy’s worn shoes, Lily’s patched dress, and Marcus standing guard with the iron pipe.
"Put the pipe down, son," Dante said gently to Marcus. "Nobody in this room will ever be hurt again."
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He turned to Olivia, reaching out his hand to help her rise. When his fingers wrapped around hers, the cold, ruthless don vanished, replaced by an immovable fortress of protection.
"Pack everything," Dante ordered softly. "You and these children are coming home with me."
