Chapter 6: The First Softness

Dante's heartbeat thundered as they slid down the tiny passageways like veins cutting through the city. Now far behind, the safehouse was covered in anarchy inside its walls. Enzo and his men were managing the last of the dangers, but Dante's attention had shifted to only ensuring Elena's survival.

Elena walked next him, her breathing erratic yet consistent. He could sense her tension, her body held like a wire ready to break. It was a mirror of the will that had propelled her into his life, a persistence against reason and caution.

They arrived at an old structure with a modest façade buried between rows of vacant warehouses. Dante opened the large door and guided her inside. One of his less-used boltholes, known only to a few, the place was dark, the air heavy with the aroma of dust and oil, but it was safe.

Elena caught her breath leaning against the wall with closed eyelids. Her face was shadowed by one dull light that accentuated the dirt smear on her cheek and the anxiety shown on her face. She opened her eyes and they locked with his, searching and unreadable.

Breaking the quiet, she questioned, "Why?" Her voice was ragged at the margins and raspy.

Dante did not respond right away. He went to the window and watched for any movement from the lonely street. Around them, the calm hummed thick and burdened.

"Why what?" he asked at last, his voice wary.

"Why came you to see me?" Dark and unrelenting, her eyes pushed him for an answer he wasn't sure he wanted to offer.

Dante turned from the window, his mouth tight and feelings fighting under the surface. Power plays and confrontations in which strength and strategy were the only currency were familiar to him. Still, this was unique. This was the fight he hadn't practiced, one that tore at his will and required responses he wasn't equipped to meet.

"Because letting them get to you means they win," he added, each word cut short as though that basic justification would be sufficient.

Elena fixed her eyes non waversing. And what if, today, that is insufficient? What if the stakes go beyond mere winning?

His chest constricted, a sensation foreign cutting through him. He moved nearer, his presence ruling the tense air between them. "Elena, this is not a life where you could afford such type of queries. Here the one response is survival.

She inhaled, straightening herself as though getting ready for a battle. Then perhaps you are advocating for the incorrect causes.

The stillness that followed was intolerable. Her words were difficult; they awakened the ghosts of his past, the buried murmurs of a life he had given up to become the man he was today. He simply had the will to confront his decisions; he had the luxury of doubt about them.

They both tightened at the light knock at the door before he could reply. Eyes narrowing as Dante gestured for stillness, his hand moved naturally to the revolver holstered at his side. Elena looked at him, knowing without words the fragility of their situation.

"Boss," came Enzo's voice from the other side. " It's just me."

Dante exhaled, the strain in the room threading itself free. He let Enzo through the door. The man's face was dark; a cut on his brow still teemed with a thin line of blood.

Enzo remarked, "They pulled back," wiping his brow with the rear of his palm. But they are assembling once more. We got some time, but not much.

Dante nodded, the weight of their truth squarely falling over him. The DiGregorios were unrelenting, and his choice to defend Elena had just given them more confidence. < This was the preamble to an all-out war, not only a skirmish.

"Any losses?" Dante asked in a hushed voice.

"A few minor injuries; nothing major. But the males are on edge, Enzo said, his eyes flickering to Elena just momentarily. "They wonder how far we are ready to travel for her."

Dante's eyes narrowed as he silently issued a warning. They will learn the penalties or follow commands.

Enzo nodded, yet there was obvious strain between them. "stood."

The room went still once Enzo left, the weight of the unspoken crushing down like a thunder cloud. Elena lifted herself from the wall, crossing her arms to study Dante.

"You are risking everything for this," she remarked gently. "Why??"

Dante's gaze locked with hers, the barrier he had meticulously built displaying first real flaws. He moved forward, his voice rawer and lower. "Because you lack understanding of what you have started."

She raised her chin, rebellion mixed with uncertainty. Tell me then, then.

He reached out, fingertips stroking her arm with a speed so brief it felt almost unreal. The words hung at the brink of his awareness, unsaid yet indisputable. But the faint sound of sirens in the distance caught him back into the hardened man he had to be before he could submit to them.

He added, the moment gone replaced by the reality of their circumstances: "We need to move again soon."

Elena nodded, the fire in her eyes only a fraction diminishing. Dante, I am not fleeing from this. You will be let down if you are hoping me to vanish.

Bitter and brief, a ghost of a smile graced his lips. "That's what I fear most."

The hours passed in a tense vigil, the air charged with expectancy. Dante stood by the window, his mind fighting against itself while his gaze peered down the vacant street below. Every instinct urged him to cut ties, to back off and exercise control. But he couldn't get rid of the picture of Elena defying the anarchy with a bravery commensurate with his own.

Turning to find Elena seated on the faded sofa with her head resting in her hands, he heard a rustling behind him. The weight of tiredness pushed at her, diminishing the margins of her might. She appeared vulnerable for a moment, and it hit him more strongly than he had anticipated.

He crossed the room and sank onto the chair across from her. Though not unpleasant, their stillness was heavy. It was the quiet of two people confronted with facts they could not ignore after seeing more than they wanted to acknowledge.

Elena murmured at last, her voice soft and almost contrite: "I never asked for your protection."

Dante met hers, the reserved edge easing. "I know."

Then why are you doing this? She pushed, looking for responses on his face.

He slanted back and gently exhaled. "Because it is not an option to let you confront this alone. Elena, you have entered a world not forgiving. And I cannot— " He stopped himself, the sensitivity of the comment dragging at him.

She watched him; the silence stretched across the room as the unspoken filled it. She first saw the man behind the mask in addition to the merciless ruler. A man who had erected walls so tall even he was unsure of what was behind them.

Her soft yet firm remarks, "maybe it's time you stopped fighting it."

Dante's jaw tightened, his struggle boiling hotter inside him. But before he could reply, a loud bang broke the silence—a window breaking far away—then the piercing crack of gunfire.

Both moved simultaneously, reflexes enhanced by the threat. Dante grabbed his weapon, his body stiff and ready as he looked about the room. The battle had found them, and this time there was no more sprinting.

He looked at Elena, her eyes wide but steady, and felt the will tighten in his chest. This was not about keeping power or safeguarding his realm. This related to her—keeping her safe at all expenses.

He continued, "Stay close," his voice a command wrapped in something softer.

And Dante knew one thing for sure: he would burn the city down before he let them harm her as the door burst open and the room erupted in yells and anarchy.