Dante's POV
I hated being interrupted during business meetings.
Especially meetings that involved moving three million dollars in merchandise through the port without attracting federal attention. The kind of meeting where one wrong word could cost lives.
So when Marco burst through the warehouse door at 2 AM on a Saturday, I was already reaching for my gun.
"Boss, we got a situation," Marco said, breathing hard. "Outside. You need to see this."
I exchanged glances with Anthony Chen, my accountant, and Victor Romero, my shipping coordinator. Both men knew better than to move until I gave the signal.
"This better be good," I said, standing up. My hand stayed on my gun as I followed Marco outside.
What I found made absolutely no sense.
Four teenagers in expensive clothes stood in the warehouse parking lot, surrounded by six of my men with guns drawn. The kids looked terrified—as they should be—but one of them, a tall boy with perfectly styled hair, kept trying to talk his way out of it.
"I'm telling you, my father is—"
"Shut up," one of my guys said, jabbing him with a gun barrel.
But it was the fifth person that made my blood run cold.
A girl, maybe fourteen, sat on the ground with her back against a loading dock. Her hands were clutched around her throat. Even in the dim light, I could see the bruises forming—dark finger marks on pale skin.
Someone had choked her. Recently.
And standing next to her, looking guilty as hell, was the tall boy who'd been making threats about his father.
I walked forward slowly, my footsteps loud on the concrete. Everyone went silent.
"Somebody want to tell me why there are five kids in my parking lot at 2 AM?" I asked quietly.
My quiet voice scared people more than yelling ever did. My men knew that. The kids were learning it fast.
"Boss, we caught them trying to break into the south entrance," Marco said. "These four—" he pointed to the well-dressed teens "—were chasing this one." He indicated the girl on the ground.
I looked at her more closely. Brown hair tangled and messy. Clothes dirty and torn. Eyes wide with terror but also something else. Recognition.
Wait.
"You," I said, crouching down to her level. "You're the girl from earlier. The one Victoria Sterling was hunting."
She nodded, not trusting her voice apparently.
"And let me guess." I turned to look at the four other teens. "You're Victoria's friends."
The blonde girl—perfect makeup despite the late hour—lifted her chin defiantly. "We're not friends. We're associates. And you need to let us go right now or—"
"Or what?" I stood up, giving her my full attention. "You'll call daddy? Tell him the big bad mobster was mean to you?" I stepped closer. "Here's what I think happened. You four were bored. Maybe still riding high from terrorizing this girl earlier today. So you decided to track her down and finish what you started."
"We weren't going to hurt her," the blonde said quickly. Too quickly. "We just wanted to talk."
"Really?" I looked at the girl's throat. "Because those bruises tell a different story."
The tall boy—the one who'd been choking her—finally spoke up. His voice was trying for confident but came out shaky. "My father is Marcus Reid Senior. He owns half the buildings in this city. You touch me and—"
"And what?" I was in his face now, close enough that he flinched. "Your daddy will come save you? Kid, I know exactly who your father is. I also know he's in debt up to his eyeballs to some very unpleasant people in Vegas. So unless you want me to make a phone call that results in his kneecaps being broken, I suggest you shut your mouth."
Marcus Reid Junior went pale.
I turned my attention to the others. "Names. Now."
"Madison Porter," the blonde said reluctantly.
"Sophia Kim," said a girl with dark hair.
"Jake Marshall," mumbled a boy who kept looking at his phone like he was trying to text for help. Marco snatched it from his hand.
"And you already know Marcus." I walked back to the girl on the ground. "What's your name?"
"M-Mira," she whispered. Her voice was rough, damaged. "Mira Santos."
"Well, Mira Santos, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to tell me the truth." I crouched down again, making sure she could see my face. "Did these four hurt you?"
She looked at the others. Fear flashed in her eyes. These kids had power over her, even now, even here. That fear had been beaten into her over weeks or months.
I'd seen it before. On people in my world who'd been terrorized into silence by bigger, meaner predators.
"You don't have to be scared of them," I said quietly. "Not here. Not with me. Tell me what happened."
Mira's eyes filled with tears. "They found me. I don't know how, but they found me walking near here. Victoria told them where I was somehow. They... they said I needed to learn my lesson. That running away wasn't enough." Her hand went to her throat. "Marcus said... he said if I ever came back to Westwood, he'd finish the job. And then he..."
She didn't need to finish. The bruises said everything.
Rage, cold and sharp, sliced through me. I'd dealt with murderers, thieves, liars, and thugs my entire life. But I had rules. Lines I didn't cross.
Kids were one of those lines. You didn't hurt kids. Ever.
I stood up and looked at Marcus Junior. "You choked her."
"She fought back!" he said defensively. "She scratched my face—look!" He pointed to three angry red marks on his cheek. "I was just defending myself!"
"Defending yourself." I repeated the words slowly. "From a ninety-pound girl who you and three friends cornered in the dark."
"She shouldn't have run!"
"So you decided to strangle her."
"I wasn't going to kill her! I just wanted to scare her!"
The other three teens were backing away slowly, realizing this wasn't going the way they'd planned. But my men had them surrounded. Nobody was going anywhere.
"Here's what's going to happen," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You four are going to sit on the ground with your hands on your heads. You're going to be very quiet. And you're going to wait while I decide what to do with you."
"You can't just—" Madison started.
"Sit. Down." My voice cracked like a whip.
They sat.
I pulled out my phone and made a call. "Anthony, meeting's postponed. We have a situation that requires immediate attention." I hung up and called another number. "Get me everything on Marcus Reid Senior, Madison Porter's family, Sophia Kim's family, and Jake Marshall's family. Financial records, business dealings, criminal history—everything. I want it in thirty minutes."
Knowledge was power. And these kids' families were about to learn that the hard way.
Marco appeared at my elbow. "Boss, what do you want to do with them?"
"Keep them separated. I want to talk to each one individually." I looked at Mira, still on the ground, still scared. "Get the girl some water and ice for her throat. And find out where she's been staying."
"She was with that woman from earlier," Marco said. "The one Victoria Sterling tracked here. They left a few hours ago, headed for your safe house."
"Then how did these kids find her?"
"She came back," Marco said quietly. "Showed up about thirty minutes ago, alone, asking if she could talk to you."
I looked at Mira with new interest. "You came back? Why?"
She struggled to stand, wincing as she put weight on her ankle. "Because I'm tired of running. Because Victoria texted me that I was weak and pathetic and would always hide. And because..." She looked me dead in the eye, and I saw something that surprised me. Steel. Under all that fear and pain, there was steel. "Because if I don't stop her now, she'll never stop. She'll keep hunting me forever. So I came back to take your deal."
"The deal about going back to school Monday," I said. "Recording everything."
"Yes."
"Even after what happened today. The kidnapping. The fire. All of it."
"Especially after all of it." Her voice was getting stronger. "I want her destroyed. I want everyone to see what she really is. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
This kid. This terrified, bruised, beaten-down kid had more guts than half the men in my organization.
"Your mother know you're here?" I asked.
Mira's face fell. "No. She thinks I'm sleeping at the safe house. I snuck out."
"Of course you did." I sighed. "Marco, send someone to pick up her mother. Bring her here. She's going to want to kill me for this conversation."
"On it, Boss."
I turned back to the four teens on the ground. Time to find out exactly what kind of people we were dealing with.
"Madison," I said, walking over to her. "Stand up."
She did, trying to look defiant but her hands were shaking.
"Tell me about Victoria Sterling."
"What about her?"
"How long have you been friends?"
"Three years."
"And in those three years, how many people have you helped her terrorize?"
Madison's jaw clenched. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? So those twelve students who mysteriously transferred or dropped out of Westwood—that was all coincidence?"
Her eyes widened. "How do you—"
"I know everything, Madison. That's how I stay alive in this business." I circled her slowly. "I know your mother is having an affair with her personal trainer. I know your father's company is being investigated for tax fraud. I know you shoplifted from three stores last month but your parents paid off the managers to keep it quiet. Should I keep going?"
She'd gone completely white.
"Now," I continued, "here's what I'm offering. You tell me everything Victoria has done. Every person she's hurt. Every crime she's committed. Every secret she's keeping. You give me enough to bury her, and I make all your family's problems disappear. Tax investigation? Gone. Affair? Buried so deep your dad never finds out. Shoplifting? Like it never happened."
"And if I don't?"
I smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Then I make sure all those problems become very, very public. Your father's company gets an anonymous tip to the IRS. Your mother's affair ends up on the local news. Your shoplifting record gets sent to every college you've applied to."
Madison's breathing got faster. "That's blackmail."
"That's business. What's it going to be?"
She looked at Mira, then at the other three kids, then back at me.
"If I talk... Victoria will destroy me."
"Victoria will be in jail," I said. "Or at least so publicly disgraced that she'll never show her face at Westwood again. She can't destroy you if she has no power."
Madison was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I want immunity. For everything I've done. Nothing I say can be used against me."
Smart kid.
"Done," I said. "Now talk."
And she did.
For the next twenty minutes, Madison Porter spilled every secret Victoria Sterling had. The fake accounts she'd created to cyber-bully students. The way she'd planted drugs in Emma Richardson's locker to get her expelled. How she'd photoshopped pictures to ruin Tyler Chen's reputation. The systematic campaign of terror she'd waged against anyone she deemed unworthy of attending Westwood Academy.
By the time Madison finished, even my hardened criminals looked disgusted.
"Jesus," Marco muttered. "This girl makes us look like saints."
I turned to Sophia and Jake. "Either of you want to add anything?"
They both nodded quickly, tripping over each other to tell their versions of events. Both were clearly terrified of Victoria but more terrified of me.
Finally, I walked over to Marcus Junior. He stared at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes.
"Stand up," I said.
He stood. His legs were shaking.
"You put your hands on that girl and squeezed until she couldn't breathe," I said quietly. "You left bruises that will last for weeks. You traumatized her. And you did it because she dared to fight back against someone who's been torturing her."
"I didn't mean to—"
"You meant every second of it." I stepped closer. "I know guys like you, Marcus. Rich. Entitled. Think you can do whatever you want because daddy has money. But here's the thing about money—it doesn't stop a bullet. Doesn't stop a broken bone. Doesn't stop me."
His face went from white to green. "Please... I'm sorry... I'll never go near her again..."
"You're right about that last part." I pulled out my phone and showed him a photo—one of my guys had taken it while I was questioning the others. It showed Marcus with his hands around Mira's throat. Clear as day. "I'm sending this to the police. Along with testimony from everyone here about what happened. You're going to be charged with assault. Attempted murder maybe, depending on how good the prosecutor is."
"No! My father—"
"Can't save you from this." I put the phone away. "But I can."
Hope flickered in his eyes. "What?"
"You testify against Victoria Sterling. You tell the police everything you've done, everything she's done, everything you've seen. You throw her so far under the bus that she never crawls back out." I leaned in close. "You do that, and maybe—maybe—I'll convince the girl you choked not to press charges."
Marcus looked at Mira. For a split second, I thought I saw real remorse in his face. Then it was gone, replaced by calculation.
"If I testify... I'll be a target. Victoria's father has connections."
"So do I," I said. "Better ones. Make your choice, kid. Prison or protection."
"I'll testify," he said quickly. "I'll tell them everything."
"Good." I turned to Marco. "Get all four of these kids' statements on video. Every detail, every name, every crime. And then get them out of here. They don't leave their houses until Monday morning. I don't want Victoria knowing they've flipped."
"On it, Boss."
A car pulled up—one of my guys with Mira's mother. She jumped out before it even fully stopped, running toward her daughter.
"MIRA! Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay? Who hurt you?" Her hands flew to Mira's throat, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm okay, Mom. I'm okay."
Mrs. Santos looked at me with pure fury. "You said she'd be safe. You PROMISED she'd be safe!"
"She was safe," I said calmly. "At my safe house. Where she was supposed to stay. Your daughter decided to sneak out and come back here on her own."
Mrs. Santos turned that fury on Mira. "You WHAT?"
"I had to, Mom. I had to come back."
"You could have been killed!"
"But I wasn't. And now we have something better than video evidence." Mira looked at the four teens being led away. "We have witnesses. People who will testify against Victoria."
Mrs. Santos shook her head, but I could see her resolve weakening. "This is insane. This whole thing is insane."
"Yes," I agreed. "But it's also working. By Monday morning, we'll have enough evidence to bury Victoria Sterling and everyone who helped her. Your daughter will be safe. And you'll both get your lives back."
"At what cost?" Mrs. Santos asked quietly.
I didn't have an answer for that. The truth was, once you made a deal with someone like me, there was always a cost. Always strings attached.
But sometimes, the alternative was worse.
"Go back to the safe house," I told them. "Both of you. Stay there until Monday. I'll have protection on you 24/7. And Mira?" I looked at the girl. "No more sneaking out. You want to be a hero, fine. But heroes who get themselves killed aren't much use to anyone."
She nodded, properly chastised.
As they drove away, Marco appeared at my side. "You think this is going to work, Boss?"
"It has to," I said. "Because if it doesn't, that girl's dead by next weekend."
"Why do you even care?" Marco asked. "She's not family. Not connected. Just some random kid who wandered into our territory."
I watched the taillights disappear into the night. "You remember what it was like, Marco? Being young and powerless? Having someone bigger and meaner push you around, and knowing nobody would help?"
Marco was quiet. He remembered. We all remembered.
"Victoria Sterling is everything I hate about this world," I continued. "Rich people who think money makes them gods. Who destroy lives for sport. Who face no consequences because the system protects them." I turned to look at him. "We may be criminals, Marco. But at least we have a code. Lines we don't cross. People like Victoria? They have no lines. No code. No limits."
"So you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart?" Marco sounded skeptical.
"I'm doing this because Victoria Sterling and her father have been a pain in my ass for years. This is just good business." I smiled. "The fact that I get to help a brave kid in the process? That's a bonus."
We walked back into the warehouse where Anthony and Victor were waiting, looking concerned.
"Everything okay, Boss?" Anthony asked.
"Everything's fine. Just some kids who wandered where they shouldn't." I sat back down at the table. "Now, where were we? Three million in merchandise through the port..."
But even as we talked business, my mind kept drifting back to that girl. Mira Santos. Fourteen years old. Terrified but refusing to back down.
She reminded me of someone.
Me, twenty years ago. Before I became Dante Moretti, feared mob boss. When I was just a scared kid being pushed around by people with more power.
The difference was, nobody had helped me.
But I could help her.
And maybe—just maybe—that would balance out some of the darker things I'd done.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
I know what you're planning. I know about the witnesses. It won't work. By Monday morning, they'll all recant their statements. And the girl? She won't even make it to school. This is your only warning, Moretti. Stay out of Sterling business.
I stared at the message for a long moment.
Then I forwarded it to Marco with instructions: Trace this number. Find out who sent it. And double security on the safe house. Victoria Sterling just declared war.
If she wanted war, she'd get it.
But she was about to learn an important lesson about fighting mobsters.
We don't play fair.
And we always win.