I Bathed the Mafia Boss’s Killer Pit Bull, and He Told Me I Belonged to Him Before Sunrise

The rain outside felt like ice needles crashing against my skin as Dante, Vance, and I ran across the muddy rear lawns toward the south estate wall.

Flashlights cut through the pitch-black night, and the distant sound of engines revving echoed from the perimeter road.

When we reached the south wrought-iron gate, we saw Carlo’s getaway SUV idling near the treeline. But the vehicle wasn't moving.

The driver's door was swung wide open. The driver was lying face down in the mud, unconscious, his gun discarded three feet away.

Pinned against the high stone wall was Carlo Vescari.

Titan stood three feet in front of him, his broad body low to the mud, his jaws dripping with rain and saliva, letting out a low, terrifying growl that vibrated through the wet earth beneath our feet.

Carlo was crying hysterically, holding a useless, empty pistol in his trembling hand, his legs pinned against the stone. "Get him away from me! Dante, call him off! Call him off, please!"

Dante stepped forward through the mud, his dark coat soaked, blood still staining his left shoulder, looking like a demonic king emerging from the underworld. Vance stood beside him, his firearm aimed straight at Carlo’s head.

"You tried to kill me, cousin," Dante said, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth or mercy. "You tried to sell my family empire to the Moretti family in Philadelphia. And you cut my dog."

"I was desperate, Dante!" Carlo sobbed, dropping the empty gun into the mud. "They threatened my family! They said they'd kill me if I didn't deliver the port ledgers!"

Dante stepped right up to Carlo, pulling a long, gleaming trench knife from Vance's belt tactical sheath—the exact same design as the weapon used on Titan four nights ago.

"Dante," I called out softly, stepping into the rain beside them.

Dante paused. He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine through the downpour. "Don't look, Rosie. This isn't a place for soft hearts."

"I'm not soft, Dante," I said, stepping closer until I was standing right beside Titan, resting my hand on the dog's wet neck. "But if you murder him in cold blood right here, the federal prosecutors will use it to tear down everything you’ve built. They’re waiting for you to make a mistake."

Carlo looked at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Yes! Yes! Listen to the girl! The feds have wiretaps on the main road!"

Dante stared at me, his jaw working as he processed my words. The rain washed the blood from his cheek, making his sharp features look carved from dark marble.

"Vance," Dante said quietly after a long, excruciating ten seconds.

"Boss?"

"Call the District Attorney," Dante ordered, his voice echoing over the storm. "Tell him I have Carlo Vescari, Marco Rossi, and three illegal wire manifests connecting the Moretti syndicate to the Port of Baltimore ready for delivery on his desk by six AM."

Carlo gasped. "You're... you're turning me over to the feds?!"

"In federal prison, Carlo, you will spend thirty years sitting in a concrete box, looking over your shoulder every second of every day, wondering when my people are coming for you," Dante whispered, leaning down until his face was inches from his cousin's. "That is much worse than a quick death in the rain."

Dante tossed the knife into the mud at Carlo's feet.

He turned his back on his cousin, extended his hand toward me, and looked into my eyes with a fierceness that made my breath catch in my throat.