Chapter 3 - Blood on the Manifest
The digital pulse sent out from Dante’s hidden burner phone raced through encrypted satellite relays, hitting secure servers hidden beneath the city’s old subway lines. Across the metropolis, in smoke-filled backrooms, waterfront warehouses, and high-stakes gambling dens, phones began to buzz in unison. The sleeping giant had just woken up.
In room 402, the atmosphere shifted from tense negotiation to outright warfare in a heartbeat. Voss lunged toward the bed with blinding speed, shedding the image of an aging corporate executive for that of a ruthless tactician. His hand swept inside his jacket, drawing a sleek, suppressed pistol. But Bruno was faster.
The hundred-pound Cane Corso launched himself like a furry missile, slamming directly into Voss’s chest just as the gun cleared leather. The suppressed pistol flew from Voss’s hand, clattering loudly against the tiled floor. Voss hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him in a violent gasp, pinned beneath the crushing weight of the massive mastiff. Bruno’s jaws hovered inches from Voss’s throat, a low, murderous growl shaking the walls.
“Get the dog off me!” Voss choked out, his face turning pale as he struggled against the immovable beast.
Clara stood frozen against the door, trembling uncontrollably, watching the man who had controlled half the city a moment ago now reduced to a pinned animal. Dante slowly pushed himself up further against the pillows, wincing as his abdominal stitches strained, but his eyes remained locked on Voss with lethal precision.
“You underestimated the dog, Voss,” Dante said, his voice cold as ice. “You always thought Bruno was just a beast. You never understood that loyalty isn't bought with a paycheck; it’s earned in blood.”
Voss glared up from the floor, his silver hair disheveled, his expensive suit stained with dust. Despite the terrifying dog inches from his jugular, a twisted smile crept onto his lips. He let out a harsh, dry chuckle.
“You think killing me solves anything, Dante?” Voss spat out, gasping for air beneath Bruno’s weight. “Do you really think I was acting alone? The council approved this vote three weeks ago. Even if I don't walk out of this hospital, the docks are already locked down. Your shipments are seized. Your bank accounts are frozen. By morning, Marchesi Holdings won't even be a memory.”
Dante’s expression didn't waver, but a cold realization settled into his chest. Voss was just the head of the snake visible above the water; the rest of the body was hidden deep within the corporate and political machinery of the city. Taking Voss out would trigger a civil war, exactly as planned.
“Let him speak, Bruno,” Dante commanded quietly.
The massive mastiff immediately eased back slightly, though it kept its heavy paw planted firmly on Voss’s chest, making any sudden movement impossible. Voss coughed, rolling his neck as he glared up at the bed.
“Who else on the council?” Dante demanded, leaning forward. “Give me names, Voss. Give me names, and maybe I’ll let you crawl out of this city alive.”
“You’ll get nothing from me,” Voss wheezed, adjusting his collar with a shaky hand. “The new order has already begun, Dante. Look out the window. Look at the skyline. It’s no longer yours.”
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Before Dante could press further, the sound of heavy boots echoing down the hallway shattered the quiet of the fourth floor. Multiple pairs of running feet were approaching room 402 with terrifying speed. Clara panicked, pressing herself deeper against the door frame.
“Dante... they’re outside,” she whispered in absolute terror.
