Chapter 7: No Sanctuary
Valentina's POV
The drive took forty minutes. I counted every second.
The driver never spoke. Never looked at me. Just drove through streets that got progressively emptier, darker, more hostile. We passed buildings tagged with Moretti symbols. Corners where men loitered with guns visible under their jackets.
This was their territory. Their kingdom.
I was prey walking into the lion's den.
The warehouse looked abandoned from the outside. Broken windows, rusted metal, graffiti covering every surface. But the door we entered through was new, reinforced steel with electronic locks.
Inside was different. Clean. Organized. Men everywhere, all armed, all watching me with predatory interest.
The scarred guard from the alley materialized beside me. "This way."
He led me through corridors that smelled like oil and concrete. We passed rooms where I glimpsed operations I wasn't supposed to see. Money counting. Weapons storage. Men in suits having quiet conversations that stopped when I walked by.
Finally, we reached a door at the end of a long hallway.
"Wait here." The guard positioned himself next to me, arms crossed. "Someone wants to see you first."
"First? Not Dante?"
He didn't answer.
We stood there for fifteen minutes. My legs ached. My heart hammered. Every instinct screamed at me to run.
Then the door opened, and a woman stepped out.
She was beautiful in a dangerous way. Asian features, perfect skin, dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She wore black pants and a fitted shirt that didn't hide the gun at her hip. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, missing nothing.
"Valentina Romano." She tilted her head. "You're either very brave or very stupid."
"Probably stupid."
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "I'm Isabella Chen. People call me Izzy. I handle security for Mr. Moretti."
"Am I a security concern?"
"You're a Romano in Moretti territory. You're absolutely a security concern." She gestured to a small room off the hallway. "We need to talk before you see him."
It wasn't a request.
The room was bare except for a table and two chairs. Izzy closed the door behind us, and I felt the trap snap shut.
"Sit."
I sat.
She remained standing, circling me slowly. "Why are you here?"
"I need to speak with Dante."
"Why?"
"That's between him and me."
"Wrong answer." She stopped in front of me. "Nothing is between you and him. Everything goes through me first. So let's try again. Why is Vincent Romano's daughter sneaking into our territory at four in the morning?"
My jaw clenched. "My father is dead. My family is falling apart. I need help."
"From us? From the people your family has been at war with for a decade?"
"Yes."
"Why would we help you?"
"I don't know." My voice cracked. "Because I'm desperate. Because I have nowhere else to go. Because whoever sent me that card thought Dante might listen."
Izzy's eyes sharpened. "What card?"
I pulled it from my pocket, handed it over. She studied it, her expression unreadable.
"Who sent this?"
"I don't know. It was in my father's study. Someone left it for me."
"Convenient."
"Or a trap. I know. I came anyway."
She pocketed the card. "You're armed. Gun in your waistband, left side."
My hand moved instinctively to cover it. She smiled.
"Don't bother. You'd be dead before you touched it. But I appreciate that you came prepared." She pulled out her own gun, set it on the table between us. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me everything. About your father's death. About what's happening in the Romano family. About why you really came here. And if I believe you, if I think you're not a threat or a spy or a complete waste of time, then maybe I'll let you see him."
"And if you don't believe me?"
"Then you'll leave in pieces."
She wasn't joking.
I took a breath and started talking.
I told her everything. The murder. The meeting. Roberto's coup. Alessandro's proposal. Marco's breakdown. The card. My desperation.
Izzy listened without interrupting, her face giving nothing away.
When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"Your father's last words were trust no one?"
"Yes."
"Smart man. Smarter than most gave him credit for." She picked up her gun, holstered it. "You think someone in your family killed him."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Yes."
"Who?"
"I don't know. Paulo, maybe. Roberto. Could be anyone." My hands twisted together. "That's why I need help. I can't trust anyone there. I have no allies. No protection. Alessandro will make me his wife, and Roberto will use me as a bargaining chip. My brother is too broken to fight back. I'm trapped."
"So you came to us."
"I came to Dante."
"Why? Because you knew him once? Because you think that boy you used to sneak around with still exists?" Izzy leaned forward. "He doesn't. The man upstairs is not who you remember. He's cold. He's ruthless. He kills without hesitation. And he has every reason to hate you and everyone with your last name."
"I know."
"Do you? Because I don't think you understand what you're walking into. What you're asking for."
"I'm asking for his help finding my father's killer."
"No." Izzy stood. "You're asking him to go to war with your family. To risk his men. To expose his operations. To care about a Romano's problems. Why would he do that?"
"Because someone wanted me to come here. Someone thought he'd listen." I stood too, meeting her eyes. "And because maybe, just maybe, there's some part of him that remembers what we had. Before everything went wrong."
"Love?" Izzy laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're betting your life on a childhood romance?"
"I'm betting my life on the fact that Dante Moretti doesn't let anyone tell him what to do. If his instinct is to refuse me because I'm a Romano, maybe he'll help me just to prove he makes his own choices." I swallowed hard. "Or maybe I'm desperate and grasping at straws. But I'm here. And I'm not leaving until I see him."
Izzy studied me for what felt like forever.
"You've got spine. I'll give you that." She moved to the door, opened it. "Come on. Let's see if that spine is enough to survive what comes next."
We walked back through the corridors. More men watched us pass. Some whispered. Everyone looked at me like I was already dead.
Maybe I was.
We stopped outside a door I recognized. The same door from my dream, from the warehouse where I'd end up standing in line watching a man die.
"Last chance to run," Izzy said.
"I'm not running."
"Then pull up your hood. Cover your face. He likes surprises, but let's make this one count." She opened the door. "Wait here. When it's your turn, the guard will tell you."
I pulled up my hood, hiding in its shadow.
And I waited.
The line formed slowly. Seven people ahead of me. I watched them enter one by one. Some came back out. Some didn't.
The man directly in front of me arrived thirty minutes into my wait. The one with too much pomade and a rumpled suit. He was terrified. I could smell it on him.
Thirty-nine minutes total.
That's how long I stood there, counting seconds, preparing myself.
Then the gunshot.
Then the body.
Then it was my turn.
The scarred guard looked at me with something like pity. "Next."
I walked through the door into the makeshift throne room. Saw the blood on the floor. Saw Dante on his elevated chair, surrounded by his enforcers.
Saw the man I'd loved transformed into something I barely recognized.
He didn't know it was me yet. I was just another hooded supplicant, another desperate soul seeking his judgment.
I walked forward until I stood where the dead man had stood.
"Name." His voice hit me like a physical blow.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but stand there frozen.
"Name," he repeated, harder.
The lean enforcer stepped forward. "Boss, you want me to—"
"Remove your hood. Now."
My hands shook as I reached up. This was it. The moment everything changed or everything ended.
I pushed the hood back.
His face remained blank for one heartbeat. Two.
Then slowly, deliberately, his lips curved into that terrible smile.
"Well, well. Valentina Romano." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What a surprise."
And I knew, looking into those cold eyes, that I had just gambled everything on a man who might enjoy watching me lose.