Chapter 5
For eleven months, Mara had moved like a tired woman trying not to take up space.
Now she moved like the room belonged to her.
She shoved the food cart into one attacker’s legs, grabbed Dante by the back of his suit, and dragged him through the smoke toward the service door.
Dante fought her for half a second.
Then a round tore through the air where his chest had been, and he stopped fighting.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped.
“Saving your expensive life,” Mara said.
She shoved him through the service door and into the back kitchen.
The kitchen was already chaos.
Staff screamed behind stainless-steel counters. Broken plates scattered across the wet floor. Smoke rolled in from the service hallway. Harsh overhead lights flickered over spilled water, steel prep tables, and terrified faces.
Dante stumbled near the prep station, one hand against his temple.
A black-suited attacker rushed in behind them, weapon angled low.
Mara grabbed the nearest heavy metal pan.
The attacker lunged toward Dante.
Mara swung.
The pan slammed into the attacker’s forearm, knocking him sideways as plates exploded across the kitchen floor.
Dante froze.
Mara stepped between him and the attackers, gripping the pan with both hands.
For the first time since she had entered his casino, Dante Bellafior truly saw her.
Not the limp.
Not the size.
Not the ghost.
The stance.
The balance.
The calm.
“Who the hell are you?” he said.
Mara kept her eyes on the men in front of her.
“The woman nobody bothered to watch.”
A second attacker rushed from the side.
Mara pivoted, slammed the pan against the steel counter to block him, then drove him backward without wasting a single movement.
Dante reached for his fallen phone near the broken plates.
Smoke rolled through the kitchen door.
The lead attacker stared at Mara, suddenly pale.
“Boss,” he whispered into his comm, “she’s not kitchen staff.”
Mara looked over her shoulder at Dante.
May you like
“Move when I tell you.”
Dante moved.
