"Are you sure you don’t need there?" Dante made a last-minute call at the airport before boarding the plane to London.
"You can work in London if you love business administration as much as you claim during als. I rember you used to skip classes and hide in the kitchen to avoid being caught. Enjoy the trip, appreciate your youth, and stop calling ," John ended the call, hoping his son wouldn’t bother him further.
Dante shook his head with a calm expression and murmured, "Always so hard to understand, Dad. I just hope you don’t call mid-flight..."
Taking his seat in first class, Dante focused on the online news, soon stumbling upon a program titled, "What the World Hides from Us."
Clicking on the video, Dante watched the screen intently, captivated by what he was seeing.
The trip had been sudden, but he hoped there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings. Explaining the reason for his journey was simple enough.
What worried Dante least in life were the enemies seeking his family’s land. That place was aningless to him.
For Dante, family mattered most—not land that no one could take to their grave.
While the Yellowstone Ranch might hold significant value to others, Dante saw it as sothing that could easily be sold. He knew both Beth and Jamie felt the sa; the ranch was indifferent to them.
If they fought over their family’s land now, it was only because they all loved their father. Each of them wanted to make John proud, even though he had rarely given a complint without a reason.
Of course, this dynamic was sothing everyone was familiar with.
Dante, on the other hand, was more concerned about whether there were people out there plotting to kill him.
Montana was his sanctuary, but outside that territory, anyone could easily reach him.
"I hope coming to London was a good idea..."
...
The Continental Hotel, London
Having landed so ti ago, Dante headed straight to this hotel, reserved exclusively for professional assassins.
No one unrelated to this world could stay here, making it a unique place that catered only to a specific clientele.
For this reason, nobody at the hotel was soone you’d want to cross. Every guest here knew how to kill and had done so countless tis, each special in their own way.
But Dante, as a mafia boss and a weapons supplier to many of these hotels, had the privilege of staying here. Additionally, many of his agents were trained assassins.
"We’ve arrived at the Continental. Have a pleasant trip, sir," the driver said, glancing at Dante through the rearview mirror after parking outside the hotel.
Dante nodded, stepped out of the car, and walked toward the stunningly modern building—one of the most impressive hotels he’d visited in a long ti.
The people in the lobby were mostly dressed in suits. So wore colorful attire, others long dresses, and a few kept their outfits simple yet equally striking.
The hotel’s atmosphere was distinct. While everyone acted normal, they were more alert than ever, surrounded by potential enemies.
It was well known that one rule at the Continental must never be broken: no killing, no weapons, no fighting. Violating this rule ant death for the offenders.
Dante felt many eyes evaluating him. He wore a simple black suit with built-in armor, standard for professional assassins, and carried a special suit in his bag for more chaotic situations.
Walking up to the reception desk, Dante looked at the woman who seed to be the hotel’s concierge and his point of contact.
"Welco to the Continental. How may I assist you?" she asked pleasantly, glancing at so docunts.
"The best room you have, please." Dante placed a few coins on the counter—currency used exclusively in places like this.
The woman looked up, assessed Dante’s appearance, and gave a slight nod. "Room 455. Have a pleasant stay."
Dante nodded faintly and headed toward the elevator, unaware of the many eyes watching him with a different intensity than they had for others.
One man in particular read a ssage on his device with a special request: "Eliminate the contact of Susie Glass, who will et with her twelve hours after her flight. Proceed with caution—target is extrely dangerous."
No one knew Dante’s identity, but they did know Susie Glass. She had t Felipe Lobos on the day Dante beca part of the Lobos family, rising as one of the most significant distributors in the xican drug cartel.
What the assassins knew was that their target would et Susie Glass at the Continental. Beyond that, their motivations were indifferent.
Now that Dante had arrived in London, trouble had followed him—and it wasn’t going to be easy to resolve.
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