Black Rose in the Abyss Chapter 9

When Bianca regained consciousness, the sensation of weightlessness snapped her awake instantly.

She found herself suspended by a rough hemp rope over the edge of a cliff.

Below her, the turbulent waves of the Atlantic crashed against the jagged rocks at the end of Long Island.

Not far away, Mia was hanging in the same precarious position.

"Rocco." Bianca understood the situation immediately.

Rocco, whose leg had been ruined by Dante, had come for revenge.

On the clearing atop the cliff, Rocco stood with his remaining men, facing off against Dante.

To her surprise, the Sterling couple was there too.

"Dante!"

Rocco laughed hideously. "The more I thought about our past grudge, the angrier I got. So today, I'm inviting you to play a game. Choose one of two."

"You and Senator Sterling must say the name of the person you want to save at the same time. If the names match, I'll let her go."

"If they don't match, no worries. You don't get a second chance."

Hearing these rules, Bianca's heart tragically rippled with a faint emotion.

She had long lost hope in Dante. But for the Sterlings, who had given her a moment of warmth during her illness, she actually harbored a sliver of expectation.

Rocco grinned viciously and started the countdown. "Three, two, one!"

Almost simultaneously, three voices rang out clearly on the edge of the cliff—

"Mia."

Dante's voice and the Sterlings' voices overlapped, without a hint of hesitation.

Bianca closed her eyes.

Good.

They had all abandoned her.

Sixteen years of riding or dying together couldn't beat three months of feigned innocence.

The blood connection she had just found couldn't outweigh twenty-four years of projected affection.

The place in her heart that was already riddled with holes was finally crushed completely in this moment, turning into ash.

She didn't even feel much pain, only a sense of relief that the dust had settled.

Dante, is this what you meant when you said I have everything?

"Looks like the answer is unanimous," Rocco laughed sinisterly and waved his hand.

Bianca felt the rope binding her snap.

Dante's mind went blank in that instant.

He watched the familiar figure plummet straight toward the sea. Many sounds seemed to ring in his ears.

Rocco's rampant laughter, Mia's crying, the Sterlings' broken screams, and his subordinates' panicked shouts of "Boss!"

But all of this felt like it was happening behind a glass wall, blurred and indistinct.

The only thing clear was the hem of Bianca's dress as she fell.

"Bianca—!"

With a shrill scream, he threw himself toward the edge of the cliff regardless of everything.

Half his body hung over the edge, his hand reaching out to grab something, but grasping only empty air.

Looking at the rolling waves, he had only one thought—jump down!

But several pairs of strong hands clamped onto him tightly from behind.

"Let me go! Get the fuck off me!"

Dante went completely mad. Veins bulged on his forehead. He used every ounce of strength to break free.

His strength was terrifying, nearly overpowering the well-trained bodyguards from Chicago.

His fingernails flipped back as he clawed at the rocks, bleeding, but he was oblivious to the pain. He just stared dead at the patch of sea that had swallowed Bianca.

Today... today seemed to be his birthday.

The thought suddenly drilled into his chaotic brain.

In past years, no matter how busy she was, Bianca would make him a cheap sandwich from that street corner on this day and light a candle.

Because she would look at him with a smile, light in her eyes. "Dante, you're another year older."

But now, on his birthday, she had fallen into the freezing ocean.

Because he chose Mia.

He had personally pushed her off.

"Let me go down, please... let me find her..." His voice dropped low, filled with a humility and grief he had never shown before. His body still stubbornly tried to move forward.

Until an indifferent male voice spoke. "Knock him out. Take him back."

All of Dante's struggles came to an abrupt halt.

The shout of that seventeen-year-old girl on the streets of the Bronx seven years ago seemed to echo in his ears: "Dante! You are not allowed to kneel!"

Before his consciousness plunged completely into darkness, he thought, If time could turn back, I would kneel a thousand times, ten thousand times, as long as she was okay.

However, there were no ifs.

A private jet climbed rapidly, carrying the unconscious man toward Chicago.