Chương 83: The Breaking Point
The air in the room was thick with tension. Dante's voice, low and dangerous, seemed to reverberate through the walls as he stood in front of Viktor, unyielding in his determination. Matteo, still bound to the chair, watched the standoff with a mixture of fear and hope in his eyes.
Viktor's smirk never faltered as he slowly circled the room, his gaze flicking to us, to the door, and then back to Dante. He was playing a game, and he knew the rules all too well. But this time, there would be no escaping the consequences.
"You think you have the power here?" Viktor sneered. "This is my domain, Dante. You're nothing but a guest in my world."
Dante's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I saw the man I had once known—cold, calculating, the kind of man who could burn an empire to the ground without hesitation. But now, there was something more—a raw, desperate need to protect. And it fueled every move he made.
"You're a fool, Viktor," Dante growled, stepping closer, his voice full of venom. "This ends tonight."
Viktor chuckled darkly. "It doesn't have to end in violence, Dante. You can walk away. Leave me and my men to our business. Go back to your precious empire, and I'll let Matteo live."
I saw the hesitation flash in Dante's eyes, just for a moment. But it was gone as quickly as it had come. Viktor knew how to push his buttons, knew how to appeal to the better side of him. But Dante wasn't listening to reason anymore.
"No deal," Dante spat, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "You're not going to get away with this."
Viktor's grin widened, and before anyone could react, he drew a gun from his side and pointed it directly at Matteo. "Then I guess we'll see how far you're willing to go for him," Viktor taunted.
Time seemed to slow as Dante's eyes locked on Matteo, his brother, the one he had promised to protect at all costs. There was no hesitation now, only pure fury.
In a flash, Dante moved, his body a blur of motion. He lunged for Viktor, knocking the gun out of his hand before Viktor could pull the trigger. The force of the move sent Viktor stumbling back, but he quickly regained his balance, pulling out another weapon from behind him. The fight was far from over.
I rushed to Matteo's side, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the ropes that bound him. The chaos of the fight was all around me—gunshots, shouting, and the sound of fists connecting with flesh. It was a brutal, savage ballet.
"Stay with me, Matteo," I whispered, cutting the ropes with a knife from my belt. "We're getting you out of here."
Matteo's eyes were wild with fear, but there was relief in them as well. "Please… hurry," he gasped, his voice weak from the torture he had endured.
Behind us, Dante and Viktor continued to exchange blows, their fight escalating into something brutal and primal. It was a battle of wills—Dante's rage against Viktor's sadistic calm. But Dante's fury was unmatched, and I could see it in the way he fought, each punch, each movement laced with a promise of vengeance.
I finally got Matteo free, and he staggered to his feet, leaning against me for support. "Let's go," I urged, pulling him toward the exit.
But just as we reached the door, Viktor's voice cut through the noise. "You think you've won?" he shouted, his voice laced with bitterness. "This is just the beginning, Dante. You'll never be free of me."
Dante paused mid-fight, his eyes flashing with a lethal promise. "This ends tonight," he said again, this time with finality.
With one last, powerful punch, Dante sent Viktor crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated. The room fell into a stunned silence.
I didn't wait to see if Viktor was dead. We needed to leave. Now.
"Move, now!" Dante shouted, pulling me and Matteo toward the exit.
We ran through the warehouse, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the emptiness. As we reached the outside, the faint sound of sirens began to grow louder. The authorities would be here soon, but we couldn't afford to get caught.
Dante led the way, guiding us through the maze of alleyways and back streets until we reached the car waiting for us. I helped Matteo into the backseat before sliding in beside him. Dante was already in the driver's seat, his eyes steely and focused on the road ahead.
As we sped away from the warehouse, I glanced at Dante. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight with the remnants of his fury. He had done it. He had saved Matteo.
But as I looked at him, I knew that this victory, this moment of triumph, had come at a cost. Dante was no longer the same man I had once known. And neither was I.
The darkness had consumed us both, and there would be no turning back.
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