Page 5 of Dangerous King
"Always," Silvano answers without hesitation, and closes the door.
Dante doesn't move. He just stands there at the foot of the stairs, backlit by the lights of our mansion, watching the convoy pull out. I admire his willpower. There's no way in hell I would stay behind if I were him. Not for any amount of logic.
The convoy glides into motion. Silence stretches until Silvano speaks. "If Giovanni has touched one hair on Izzy's head…"
His voice is a snarl. Alarmed, I turn sharply to look at him. "Anything I should know about?" I ask. My tone is clipped. Silvano is my best friend, but Izzy is my sister. Plus, she's nineteen, and like me, Silvano is over thirty. That's too much of an age gap.
He snaps back instantly, "Don't insult me. She's your sister."
I watch him carefully. "I expect you to tell me if that ever changes. If your feelings shift. I'm not against it, but I need to know."
We glare at each other for a beat, the tension crackles loudly between us. Finally, he exhales. "Izzy's like a sister to me, too."
I nod once, satisfied—for now.
My father's preparing to step down. It's not official yet, but everyone feels it. The way he's pulled back and let more meetings land on my desk, more decisions ride on my word. Little by little, the weight of the Sartori name is landing on my shoulders.
That weight doesn't come without strings. It's soaked in blood, history, and expectation. Every move I make, every word I say, gets measured against generations of power. I'm not just taking over a business, I'm inheriting a kingdom built on loyalty, fear, and strategy.
It also comes loaded with responsibilities.
Number one: keep my family safe.
Number two: keep the business running.
Number three: keep our enemies exactly where they belong, under our boot or buried.
It's not a role I asked for. But it's the one I was born for. Tonight, I've already failed on the first count. My sister is in our enemy's hands. Which means all of this—the legacy, the empire, the weight—it doesn't mean shit unless I bring her home.
"This isn't on you," Silvano tells me as if he'd read my mind, which the fucker probably did.
He's wrong. Of course it's my fault. "She snuck out to go to that fucking concert." I shake my head. If I had allowed her to go, she would have taken bodyguards with her. She would have been safe.
"She needed to hear a firmno." Silvano is still trying to make me feel better. What he doesn't understand is that nothing will. Nothing until I hold her unharmed in my arms.
Silvano is right about one thing. Izzy, as sweet as she is, had to be told no for once in her life. We all dote too much on her. She isn't a spoiled brat or anything like that, but when she lets it out, the famous Santori temper soars. What brought this fight on was that she didn't ask me; shetoldme she was going to a concert. Something I could not let stand. There are rules in our family for a reason. We are all in danger. All. The. Time.
Just because she had never seen the other side of our life doesn't mean it doesn't exist.She'll know now, an ugly voice inside me pipes up, and I want to strangle it.
Silvano has the drivers of the other vehicles on the comm speaker, "We're plowing right through," I give the signal, and the convoy parts, letting me move to take the lead.
"Yes, sir." There are several replies.
My Hummer isn't just a transportation vehicle; it's a declaration with its armored plating, Kevlar-lined tires, and ballistic glass. Inside, it hums with luxury; outside, it's a goddamn war beast.
I tap the screen embedded in the dash. The HUD lights up, syncing with the live drone feed circling above the Giordano compound. Infrared overlays highlight every heat signature in red—moving guards, weapon placements, and motion sensors. A second later, our jamming suite activates, frying their internal comms and short-circuiting any external call for backup. They're going dark, going back into the stone age, just seconds before death arrives at their door. They'll learn really quick that they fucked with the wrong man.
The wrought-iron gate comes into view.
I don't hesitate. I hit the gas. Hard.
Gunfire erupts before we even reach it, heavy caliber rounds pinging off the Hummer's armor like hailstones. Silvano grips theOh Shitbar with one hand, the other already sliding out his custom Staccato XC from its holster. The gate explodes inward like it's made of sugar glass, not reinforced steel.
"Have the last two vehicles fall back and take care of the guards!" I bark, "We'll meet at the front entrance."
"You should wait in here until—" Silvano starts.
"The fuck I will," I cut him off.
