Chapter 15 - The Dawn of the Guardian
Dante did not drop him off the cliff. He threw Julian down onto the soaked flagstones with bone-cracking force, stepping hard on his right forearm. The sickening snap of Julian’s radius and ulna tore a shriek of raw agony from the traitor’s throat.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The real syndicate convoy, led by the elder council, had arrived at the outer gates, alerted by Evelyn’s emergency beacon. The truth would be laid bare before the council: Julian’s treachery, his forged succession documents, his attempted slaughter of a child.
In the criminal underworld, death was an easy escape. Julian Vance would spend the rest of his miserable life locked in a subterranean cell, stripped of his name, his wealth, and his dignity, answering for every drop of blood he had spilled.
Dante turned his back on the weeping traitor and walked back into the ruined mansion.
The dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, bleeding soft lavender and gold light through the broken glass of the foyer. The smoke had cleared.
Elena and Evelyn stood near the base of the stairs, holding Clara between them. The little girl was wrapped in a dry, heavy wool blanket. Her fever had completely broken; her cheeks were pink with returning life.
Clara saw Dante approach, drenched in rain and blood, and she reached her arms out toward him.
Dante stopped, knelt down, and allowed her small arms to wrap tightly around his neck. For the first time in five years, the iron tycoon buried his face in a child's shoulder, exhaling a long, shuddering breath that carried away a lifetime of grief.
""Is the bad dream over?"" Clara asked softly.
""Yes, little bird,"" Dante whispered. ""The bad dream is over.""
Clara pulled back slightly, looking over his shoulder toward the center of the foyer where the great black mastiff still lay in peaceful stillness under the morning light.
""Atlas kept us safe, didn't he?"" she asked, her small voice clear and without fear.
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Dante looked at the fallen giant, the loyal guardian who had traded his life so that this child could see another sunrise.
""He did,"" Dante replied, standing tall and holding Clara tight against his heart as the new sun filled the home. ""And now, it’s my turn."""
