Chapter 6 - Blood on the Dance Floor
Rossi’s smile twisted into a venomous sneer, but before he could snap back a reply, the lights in the grand ballroom flickered and died. A split second later, emergency red backup strobes began to spin frantically across the ceiling.
"Ambush!" a Castellano guard shouted from the perimeter doors.
Panic exploded instantly among the high-society guests. Screams echoed off the crystal chandeliers as hundred-dollar champagne flutes shattered on the floor and wealthy socialites trampled over each other to reach the exits. Rossi slipped away into the rushing crowd like a ghost, vanishing into the shadows of the panic-stricken mob.
"Stay close to me, Addison!" Dominic commanded, unholstering his polished silver Beretta with terrifying speed.
Gunshots cracked outside the grand double doors. Heavy tactical boots thundered up the marble staircases. Rossi hadn't just come to insult us; he had turned the entire gala into a premeditated execution ground.
"They're coming through the service elevators!" I yelled, pulling Dominic behind a heavy concrete pillar as a hail of bullets chewed through the decorative mahogany walls, raining splinters over our heads.
"Damn it, my security team is pinned down in the lobby," Dominic swore, firing two precise shots down the hallway. Two masked gunmen dropped instantly. But more kept pouring out of the shadows, advancing with ruthless, calculated precision.
We were trapped.
Suddenly, a deep, familiar, ferocious bark echoed from the service corridor behind the ballroom kitchen.
"What the hell...?" Dominic stared in disbelief.
Heavy paws slammed against the kitchen swinging doors. Zeus burst through the double doors like a furry freight train, dragging a bewildered Castellano handler behind him on a heavy tactical lead. Dominic had left the dog secured in the armored transport van outside, but Zeus had apparently chewed through his heavy leather harness, tracked our scent straight through the hotel’s service entrance, and smashed his way inside to find us.
"Zeus?!" I cried out, my heart leaping into my throat.
The massive pit bull didn't hesitate. Spotting two of Rossi’s gunmen aiming their submachine guns directly toward our pillar, Zeus let out a terrifying war cry and launched himself airborne across the polished dance floor. He slammed into the first gunman, sending him crashing backward into a glass display case with a deafening smash of shattering crystal.
The second gunman spun around, panic-stricken, trying to train his weapon on the dog.
"Now, Dominic! Shoot!" I screamed.
Dominic didn't miss. A single, crisp gunshot echoed through the ballroom, and the second gunman collapsed instantly.
Within seconds, the remaining mercenaries realized they were outmatched, outgunned, and now facing an angry mafia boss and a genetically terrifying, highly protective rescue pit bull. They threw down their weapons and fled into the night, leaving the ballroom smelling of cordite, spilled wine, and terror.
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Dominic lowered his smoking gun, breathing heavily, and looked down at Zeus, who stood proudly over the subdued intruder, before lifting his gaze to me.
"I told you," I breathed, wiping a streak of soot from my forehead, a breathless laugh escaping my lips. "He chooses his own family."
