Chapter 6 - The Blood in the BallroomThe fragile peace of the gala shattered halfway through the evening.
While Antonio had stepped away to speak with a city commissioner near the terrace doors, I stood near the edge of the ballroom, holding a glass of sparkling water and trying to catch my breath from the overwhelming social pressure.
That was when a man stepped out from the shadow of a marble pillar.
He was older, with silver hair slicked back, wearing a white tuxedo jacket that marked him as part of the old guard—Salvatore Moretti, Dominic’s uncle and the head of the oldest, most violent faction in the Brooklyn syndicate.
"So," Salvatore hissed softly, his rheumy eyes scanning me up and down with open contempt. "You're the little nurse playing nursemaid to the devil of Brooklyn."
I stepped back, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Excuse me."
"Antonio thinks he can expand his territory, buy up legitimate clinics, and pretend he’s a philanthropist," Salvatore sneered, taking a step closer, cutting off my exit toward the crowd. "He thinks he’s untouchable because he surrounds himself with shiny new toys. But a wolf in a tailored suit is still a wolf, girl. And when the war starts, the people he cares about are always the first ones to bleed."
Before I could answer, a shadow fell over us.
The temperature in the immediate vicinity dropped twenty degrees.
Antonio materialized beside me so silently it felt supernatural. His face was carved from granite, his eyes locked onto Salvatore with a murderous, terrifying intensity that made the older mafia boss instinctively flinch.
"Step away from her, Salvatore," Antonio said, his voice a low, lethal purr that carried the weight of a falling executioner's blade.
Salvatore forced an ugly, defiant smile, though his hands trembled slightly. "Just introducing myself to your little project, Antonio. Careful letting outsiders get too close. They tend to break when things get heavy."
"If you ever look at her again," Antonio whispered, stepping so close his chest brushed Salvatore’s shoulder, "I won't just take your docks on the East River. I will dismantle your entire family tree down to the roots before the sun rises tomorrow."
Salvatore swallowed hard, realizing he had pushed too far. Without another word, he turned and melted back into the crowded ballroom.
I stood frozen, my hands shaking slightly around my glass. The glitter of the gala, the champagne, the silk gown—it all felt like a thin veneer covering a bottomless abyss of violence.
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"Are you alright?" Antonio asked instantly, turning to me, his hands gently framing my face, checking every inch of me for harm. The cold, merciless mafia boss was completely gone, replaced by a man terrified of losing the only pure thing in his life.
"I'm fine," I whispered, leaning into his warm palms. "I just... I want to leave, Antonio. Please take me home."
