Chapter 10 - BLIZZARD AT THE PIERDante pulled a satellite phone from his pocket, dialing Antonio on speaker. "I have your little bride, Antonio. If you want her alive, come to Pier 42 in fifteen minutes. Come alone, unarmed, or I'll feed her to the East River."
A brutal snowstorm raged outside, howling against the corrugated metal walls of the warehouse. Less than twelve minutes later, the front wooden doors splintered open.
Antonio walked in alone. His hair was plastered to his forehead with snow, his coat flying open in the freezing wind. He held his hands up, completely unarmed.
"Let her go, Dante," Antonio said coldly. "Your quarrel is with me."
"My quarrel is with the Russo bloodline!" Dante spat. He nodded to his men, who swarmed Antonio, beating him with steel pipes. Antonio didn't cry out; he absorbed every strike, keeping his eyes locked onto mine.
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"Antonio!" I screamed, pulling against the ropes binding my wrists to a metal chair.
As Dante drew his pistol and aimed it at the back of Antonio’s head, I managed to slide a sharp piece of broken window glass from the floor into my palm, slicing through my bindings. I lunged forward with all my strength, driving the glass shard deep into the side of Dante’s neck. Dante shrieked in agony, dropping his weapon as blood gushed over his collar. Antonio reacted instantly—he swept the feet of the nearest guard, snatched the fallen pistol, and fired three rapid shots, clearing our path through the blinding snow.
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