Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 36: Chapter 36
You are reading Dangerous Melodies, Chapter 36: Chapter 36. Read more chapters of Dangerous Melodies.
MARCOS
Marisol had slipped from my grasp and into the hands of a man like Dante Kincade.
That wasn’t simple defiance. It was personal, like a strike against the very heart of who I was. A reminder that my control wasn’t absolute.
My vision blurred as fury surged, images flashing through my mind: tools of pain, each one crafted for torment.
She needs to remember what it costs to humiliate me.
But fury alone wouldn’t win this.
Dante wasn’t a fool. He’d managed to keep her safe so far, and I knew why. He didn’t get his hands dirty unless there was no other way.
The man had a reputation for leveling entire cartels from afar, using methods that blended precision with creativity. He was surgical, efficient, dangerous.
It’ll take more than brute strength to break a man like him.
And I knew that better than anyone.
I forced a breath past my teeth, grounding myself as the fury simmered beneath the surface. Raw emotion wouldn’t take Dante down. Strategy would.
My next move had to be flawless.
A slow, dark smile curled across my lips.
Let him think I’ve backed off. Let him feel safe.
When the moment came, he wouldn’t see it coming.
Still, the warning pulsed in the back of my mind, steady and cold. I’d seen what Dante was capable of. The brutal efficiency. The unwavering focus when he wanted revenge.
Underestimating him would be a mistake.
MARCOS
The memory gnawed at me. Not just because Dante rose to power.
Everyone liked to say it was strategy. But I knew better. It was vengeance that shaped him.
Marisol’s name still tasted like iron. Blood-warm, brutal, addictive.
She was a woman to me. Soft. Beautiful.
But it was the breakable parts I wanted most. The parts that screamed when I took too much.
The Morelli cartel killed his mother when he was a kid. That kind of loss... it infects a man. Makes everything sharp. Cold. Surgical.
It wasn’t even Dante who struck first. It was his father, a brutal bastard. He tortured and butchered the ones responsible. But grief still carved him out from the inside. Left a shell behind.
One clean bullet later, Dante stood alone. And he finished what the old man started.
I remembered it too clearly. Weeks after the funeral, Dante started peeling the Morellis apart.
Not with brute force. With silence. With precision.
Drones. Remote charges. Strikes timed down to the second.
No bluster. No heat. Just pieces falling off a dying empire while Dante watched from behind his screens.
Safe houses. Convoys. Supply chains. Leaders. Gone.
They didn’t even know where to look. By the time they realized it was him, there was nothing left to fight.
He turned a boyhood vendetta into a ghost operation. People said no trace ever led back.
I believed it. That mind of his didn’t burn. It calculated. Measured. Made every move count.
I wasn’t built like that. I burned.
And now, he was using that machine-brain to shield Marisol.
I couldn’t afford a single mistake. Not one he’d see coming.
I had to strike before the next invisible hand crushed what was mine.
He killed without feeling. I killed because I felt too much.
That was the difference. He ran algorithms. I ran hot.
And this time, I’d burn through whatever shield he built around her.
I swirled the amber in my glass, heat pricking behind my eyes, slow and sharp as the churn in my chest.
Dante had been ahead of me once.
But not again.
I downed the whiskey in one swallow and slammed the glass down on the armrest.
It didn’t matter how far they ran. Or how safe Dante thought she was.
Marisol wouldn't escape me.
She’d pay. And when I was finished, there wouldn’t be anything left for him to want.
A smile tugged at my mouth, tight, bitter. The kind that didn’t reach my eyes.
“If she can’t be mine, she won’t be his either,” I muttered.
The words dropped low, but they hit hard.
I leaned back, letting the passing city lights cut long shadows across the leather interior.
“Let her believe she’s out of reach,” I whispered. “In the end, she’ll crawl back. Ruined. And when she does, there won’t be enough of her left for anyone else to claim.”
The SUV came to a stop.
One of my men opened the door, hesitating. Eyes flicking. That stammering fear behind his lashes.
“Boss, we—”
His voice cracked. That was all it took. One sound. Weakness.
Disgust rose fast and hot in my chest. I didn’t think.
I pulled the gun and shot him point blank in the head.
His body hit the driveway, limp. Blood spread wide across the concrete.
It wasn’t about failure. Failure, I could fix.
But weakness? That rotted from the inside.
That look in his eyes? I’d seen it before. In the mirror. In moments I buried under fire and blood and control.
“Clean it up,” I snapped. I didn’t shout. I didn’t need to. The edge in my voice did all the cutting.
I stepped out of the SUV, the driveway slick beneath my shoes, the night pressing close.
I looked at the blood, at the body, then up toward my estate.
Dante married Marisol. Took what was promised to me. Claimed her like a pawn.
I left the corpse behind. My thoughts shifted, clean and sharp now. Focused.
I’d move fast. Hit harder.
They could run. It wouldn’t matter.
She chose her side. Now, she’d suffer for it.
My phone buzzed. Another update.
The Kincade jet had touched down in Belize.
A slow smile spread across my face, something cold and right.
I gave the order. My men would fly tonight. Bleeding for every second. Her breath hitching. Her voice raw from screaming.
I wanted her to feel it. Remember it.
“You can hide behind your fucking drones and your trusted firewalls.
You won't see me coming...
not until your world's already ash.”
FELIX
The SUV rolled to a halt in front of the estate. Same one we tagged two days ago.
Sunlight hit the roof at a perfect glare, but the drone adjusted, stabilizing the feed.
“Target vehicle stopped,” I said into comms.
Marcos’s voice crackled through the mic. "You won't see me coming... not until your world’s already ash."
His voice crackled through the mic.
I snickered. “Dumbass doesn’t know we’re already one step ahead.”
Ivan stood beside me, arms folded, silent and still. He didn’t speak unless it mattered.
The rear door opened.
A voice came through. Nervous, stammering. “Boss, we—”
A gunshot exploded through the speakers. Loud. Close. Brutal.
I winced on instinct.
Ivan didn’t even flinch. “He shot him. Damn, shot him dead.”
“Guy barely got a sentence out.”
“He’s losing it,” Ivan said.
I tracked the man’s body as it collapsed onto the driveway.
“Confirming body drop,” I said. “Timestamp it. Same MO.”
That made three tonight. All shot because Marcos couldn’t keep his temper in check.
At this rate, he wouldn’t have any men left.
Not that that was a problem.
Marcos was spiraling. That made him sloppy. And dangerous.
“I’ll let Dante know,” I said. “Marcos’s men are en route to him.”
“Relay visuals to command,” I added. “We’ll move when he sends the jet.”
Marisol had slipped from my grasp and into the hands of a man like Dante Kincade.
That wasn’t simple defiance. It was personal, like a strike against the very heart of who I was. A reminder that my control wasn’t absolute.
My vision blurred as fury surged, images flashing through my mind: tools of pain, each one crafted for torment.
She needs to remember what it costs to humiliate me.
But fury alone wouldn’t win this.
Dante wasn’t a fool. He’d managed to keep her safe so far, and I knew why. He didn’t get his hands dirty unless there was no other way.
The man had a reputation for leveling entire cartels from afar, using methods that blended precision with creativity. He was surgical, efficient, dangerous.
It’ll take more than brute strength to break a man like him.
And I knew that better than anyone.
I forced a breath past my teeth, grounding myself as the fury simmered beneath the surface. Raw emotion wouldn’t take Dante down. Strategy would.
My next move had to be flawless.
A slow, dark smile curled across my lips.
Let him think I’ve backed off. Let him feel safe.
When the moment came, he wouldn’t see it coming.
Still, the warning pulsed in the back of my mind, steady and cold. I’d seen what Dante was capable of. The brutal efficiency. The unwavering focus when he wanted revenge.
Underestimating him would be a mistake.
MARCOS
The memory gnawed at me. Not just because Dante rose to power.
Everyone liked to say it was strategy. But I knew better. It was vengeance that shaped him.
Marisol’s name still tasted like iron. Blood-warm, brutal, addictive.
She was a woman to me. Soft. Beautiful.
But it was the breakable parts I wanted most. The parts that screamed when I took too much.
The Morelli cartel killed his mother when he was a kid. That kind of loss... it infects a man. Makes everything sharp. Cold. Surgical.
It wasn’t even Dante who struck first. It was his father, a brutal bastard. He tortured and butchered the ones responsible. But grief still carved him out from the inside. Left a shell behind.
One clean bullet later, Dante stood alone. And he finished what the old man started.
I remembered it too clearly. Weeks after the funeral, Dante started peeling the Morellis apart.
Not with brute force. With silence. With precision.
Drones. Remote charges. Strikes timed down to the second.
No bluster. No heat. Just pieces falling off a dying empire while Dante watched from behind his screens.
Safe houses. Convoys. Supply chains. Leaders. Gone.
They didn’t even know where to look. By the time they realized it was him, there was nothing left to fight.
He turned a boyhood vendetta into a ghost operation. People said no trace ever led back.
I believed it. That mind of his didn’t burn. It calculated. Measured. Made every move count.
I wasn’t built like that. I burned.
And now, he was using that machine-brain to shield Marisol.
I couldn’t afford a single mistake. Not one he’d see coming.
I had to strike before the next invisible hand crushed what was mine.
He killed without feeling. I killed because I felt too much.
That was the difference. He ran algorithms. I ran hot.
And this time, I’d burn through whatever shield he built around her.
I swirled the amber in my glass, heat pricking behind my eyes, slow and sharp as the churn in my chest.
Dante had been ahead of me once.
But not again.
I downed the whiskey in one swallow and slammed the glass down on the armrest.
It didn’t matter how far they ran. Or how safe Dante thought she was.
Marisol wouldn't escape me.
She’d pay. And when I was finished, there wouldn’t be anything left for him to want.
A smile tugged at my mouth, tight, bitter. The kind that didn’t reach my eyes.
“If she can’t be mine, she won’t be his either,” I muttered.
The words dropped low, but they hit hard.
I leaned back, letting the passing city lights cut long shadows across the leather interior.
“Let her believe she’s out of reach,” I whispered. “In the end, she’ll crawl back. Ruined. And when she does, there won’t be enough of her left for anyone else to claim.”
The SUV came to a stop.
One of my men opened the door, hesitating. Eyes flicking. That stammering fear behind his lashes.
“Boss, we—”
His voice cracked. That was all it took. One sound. Weakness.
Disgust rose fast and hot in my chest. I didn’t think.
I pulled the gun and shot him point blank in the head.
His body hit the driveway, limp. Blood spread wide across the concrete.
It wasn’t about failure. Failure, I could fix.
But weakness? That rotted from the inside.
That look in his eyes? I’d seen it before. In the mirror. In moments I buried under fire and blood and control.
“Clean it up,” I snapped. I didn’t shout. I didn’t need to. The edge in my voice did all the cutting.
I stepped out of the SUV, the driveway slick beneath my shoes, the night pressing close.
I looked at the blood, at the body, then up toward my estate.
Dante married Marisol. Took what was promised to me. Claimed her like a pawn.
I left the corpse behind. My thoughts shifted, clean and sharp now. Focused.
I’d move fast. Hit harder.
They could run. It wouldn’t matter.
She chose her side. Now, she’d suffer for it.
My phone buzzed. Another update.
The Kincade jet had touched down in Belize.
A slow smile spread across my face, something cold and right.
I gave the order. My men would fly tonight. Bleeding for every second. Her breath hitching. Her voice raw from screaming.
I wanted her to feel it. Remember it.
“You can hide behind your fucking drones and your trusted firewalls.
You won't see me coming...
not until your world's already ash.”
FELIX
The SUV rolled to a halt in front of the estate. Same one we tagged two days ago.
Sunlight hit the roof at a perfect glare, but the drone adjusted, stabilizing the feed.
“Target vehicle stopped,” I said into comms.
Marcos’s voice crackled through the mic. "You won't see me coming... not until your world’s already ash."
His voice crackled through the mic.
I snickered. “Dumbass doesn’t know we’re already one step ahead.”
Ivan stood beside me, arms folded, silent and still. He didn’t speak unless it mattered.
The rear door opened.
A voice came through. Nervous, stammering. “Boss, we—”
A gunshot exploded through the speakers. Loud. Close. Brutal.
I winced on instinct.
Ivan didn’t even flinch. “He shot him. Damn, shot him dead.”
“Guy barely got a sentence out.”
“He’s losing it,” Ivan said.
I tracked the man’s body as it collapsed onto the driveway.
“Confirming body drop,” I said. “Timestamp it. Same MO.”
That made three tonight. All shot because Marcos couldn’t keep his temper in check.
At this rate, he wouldn’t have any men left.
Not that that was a problem.
Marcos was spiraling. That made him sloppy. And dangerous.
“I’ll let Dante know,” I said. “Marcos’s men are en route to him.”
“Relay visuals to command,” I added. “We’ll move when he sends the jet.”
End of Dangerous Melodies Chapter 36. Continue reading Chapter 37 or return to Dangerous Melodies book page.