Dante's POVThe nightmare came again, dragging me into its merciless grip.I was running…lungs burning, legs heavy, my blood soaking through the shirt I had pressed against the wound on my side. Every step echoed in my head, the thud of my shoes against the ground blending with the screams. I pushed through the door, desperate, calling her name."Isabella!"Her name ripped from my throat like a prayer, but what greeted me was the sight of her crumpled on the floor, her pale hands clutching her swollen belly. Blood. So much blood."Isabella!" I dropped to my knees, shaking her, begging her to open her eyes. But they were lifeless, staring at nothing. My hands were wet with her blood as I held her close, her warmth fading as I screamed into the void.And then her lips moved…not with words, but with a final, fleeting breath. The baby...our baby...gone."No!" I roared, thrashing against the memory, but it wouldn't let me go.The sound of my own voice woke me, yanking me back to reality. I
Elena's POVThe pain was endless. It wrapped around my throat tightly, squeezing with every breath I took. I tried to swallow, even just the thought of swallowing hurt. The only thing I could manage was the lukewarm broth Clara brought me, and even that felt like I was drinking shards of glass.I stared at the tray on the bedside table. The small bowl of soup mocked me. I hadn’t eaten properly in two days. My stomach growled angrily, but the thought of attempting to sip more liquid made my eyes water.“Come on, Elena,” I whispered to myself, my voice raspy and barely audible. “You need to eat something.”I picked up the spoon with trembling hands, but as soon as the first sip touched my tongue, my throat rebelled. I coughed violently, tears streaming down my face as the pain shot through me like fire.Clara rushed into the room, her face pale with worry. “Elena, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself more,” she said, gently taking the spoon from me.“I... I need to eat,” I rasped, my voi
Elena's POV.The fourth day arrived, and I was sitting on the bed, poking at the bowl of tasteless soup Clara had left for me. My throat still ached, but the pain was bearable compared to the frustration bubbling inside me. It had been four days since I last saw Dante. Four days of silence, unanswered questions, and restless nights. And then, just like that, the door to my room burst open.Dante walked in, his towering frame and cold, commanding presence filling the space. For a second, I forgot to breathe."You’re better now," he said, his voice sharp and unwavering. "I need you to work with me."I blinked at him, stunned. “Excuse me? Work with you?” My voice cracked slightly, and I winced, but I didn’t stop. “You vanish for four days, and now you show up like nothing happened? Are you insane?”Dante didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. His dark eyes bore into mine, unreadable and cold.Before I could say more, he motioned to the men behind him. “Take her.”“What…no! Don’t you dare
Elena's POVThe smell of cigar smoke and expensive cologne was thick in the air, making me nauseous. My knees were weak, partly from fear and partly from the ridiculous shoes Dante’s team had shoved onto my feet. The false teeth in my mouth were making it difficult to breathe, let alone talk, and I cursed Dante for putting me in this situation. I was disguised as an old woman…a frail, hunched-over figure supposedly reunited with her long-lost son.The "son" in question, however, was none other than Lorenzo "The Butcher" Bellucci. His name alone sent chills down my spine, and now here he was, standing before me with a trembling lip and watery eyes. Lorenzo was a large man, thick with muscle, his suit straining against his chest. His presence was as suffocating as the smoke-filled room, and he sniffled loudly, his eyes scanning me with disbelief and desperation."Madre?" he whispered, his voice trembling. His men exchanged glances, their beefy frames blocking every exit. I forced myself
Dante's POV.The moment I saw Elena crumple to the floor, blood spattering from her mouth like it meant nothing, I snapped. My pulse surged with a fury that could only be called pure rage. I didn’t even think. The guy was too slow…too cocky…pushing Elena down, then towering over her like he could do anything he wanted. I saw it all in slow motion: the vile look in Lorenzo's eyes, that damn smirk, as he stood above her, chest heaving in fury, his fist already pulled back for another hit. She was still weak from the damage I’d seen her suffer these past few days, that goddamn wound on her throat that made her struggle to speak, to even breathe right. And now this?“No one touches her.”I didn’t even remember walking toward him. My body was already in motion before my mind could process it. I slammed my fist into his jaw with everything I had, the sound of it was a sickening crack, a sick symphony in my head as he stumbled back, blood pouring from his busted lip.But it wasn’t enough. I
Elena's POV.I couldn’t breathe, my legs were burning, but I couldn’t stop. Not now. This was my chance to escape. This was it. I had to get away from Dante, away from all the madness, the punching from Lorenzo, the blood, and most of all, his insane demands. What had he brought me here for? To kill me? Was this some sick joke?I pushed myself harder, ignoring the way my feet stumbled in the ridiculous old woman’s shoes. The heels wobbled, but I didn’t care. I had to run. I had to get out of this nightmare.I could hear his voice behind me, shouting, his footsteps thundering closer. "You can’t get away from me, Elena. You belong to me." His words were cold, deadly, like he truly thought I was going to let him have his way with me."Go to hell, Dante!" I screamed over my shoulder, barely glancing back as I ran.My heart raced, fear and adrenaline mixing in my veins. I couldn’t even think straight, I was just running. Running from him. Running from my fate.In my panic, I grabbed whatev
Dante's POV The engine purred low as the car moved through the darkness of the night. I adjusted the rearview mirror and glanced at the unconscious figure sprawled across the backseat. Elena. Her face was still streaked with remnants of the ridiculous makeup she wore for the disguise, though half of it had rubbed off during the chaos. Stubborn woman. Even in her unconscious state, she looked ready to fight.Her chest rose and fell softly, but that was about the only thing soft about her. Everything else…the slap she’d given me days ago, the sharp tongue, the way she’d defied me at every turn…boiled my blood. But tonight? She’d outdone herself. Running, screaming, throwing stones and trash, even that damn egg that had splattered on my face. And that knife…she had the audacity to think she could take me down with shaking hands.I sighed, leaning back in the seat, my hand wiping at the crusted flour still clinging to my jaw. Goddamn it. She was impossible. Amusing, but impossible.Enzo,
Elena's POV.I was running again, only this time, it wasn’t from Dante. It wasn’t even from the chaos of the night before. I was running through the past, running through memories of when things were... better. I was twelve.I could hear my mom laughing, her voice soft and warm, as she pulled me into a hug. I could feel my dad’s big, strong hands on my shoulders, his firm but gentle grip, telling me everything would be okay. Marcus was there too. He was my big brother, always so protective, always keeping watch.“Everything’s fine,” Mom said, smiling down at me with love in her eyes. “We’ve got you, Elena. We’ve got you.”I smiled back at her, at them both. Life was perfect, easy. I was happy. And Marcus…he was there, always teasing me but looking out for me.But then... everything shifted. Things cracked, the happy moments faded into a blur. I was gone…missing. Where the hell had I gone?And then, they found me. But it was too late. My parents, on their way to get me, they were dead.
Elena's POV.We moved through the narrow alleyways, the faint hum of city life around us masking our hurried footsteps. Dante kept glancing over his shoulder, his grip on my hand firm, his movements sharp and deliberate. His jacket was torn at the sleeve, blood staining the fabric. I wanted to stop and check if he was okay, but I knew better than to suggest it now.The streets had given way to quieter backroads lined with crumbling buildings and overgrown weeds. Dante slowed, his sharp gaze darting around until he stopped in front of an abandoned shop.“Here,” he said, his voice low but firm. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, the hinges creaking in protest.Inside, the place was a mess. Dust clung to the air, and broken furniture was scattered across the floor. Dante moved ahead, kicking away debris to clear a path. “We’ll stay here for now.”I leaned against a nearby counter, catching my breath. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving me acutely aware of the burning in my le
Elena's POV. The storage room was chaos. Dante was a force of nature, firing with a precision that left no room for mistakes. I crouched low behind the crates, clutching my knees to my chest, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Every loud crack of gunfire made me flinch, but I couldn’t look away from him. He moved like he’d done this a thousand times, but the tension in his jaw told me he wasn’t invincible. Not here. Not now. And definitely not alone. “Dante!” I shouted over the noise. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. He didn’t even glance my way, his focus locked on the men flooding the room. “We’re not getting out of this unless you run!” he yelled back, his voice harsh but layered with something I couldn’t name. Desperation, maybe. Or fear. Fear for me. I shook my head, crawling toward him despite his protests. “I’m not leaving you!” “You don’t get it!” he snarled, firing another shot. “This isn’t a negotiation, Elena!” But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Something about
Elena's POV.The storage room was chaos. Dante was a force of nature, firing with a precision that left no room for mistakes. I crouched low behind the crates, clutching my knees to my chest, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Every loud crack of gunfire made me flinch, but I couldn’t look away from him. He moved like he’d done this a thousand times, but the tension in his jaw told me he wasn’t invincible. Not here. Not now.And definitely not alone.“Dante!” I shouted over the noise. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. He didn’t even glance my way, his focus locked on the men flooding the room.“We’re not getting out of this unless you run!” he yelled back, his voice harsh but layered with something I couldn’t name. Desperation, maybe. Or fear. Fear for me.I shook my head, crawling toward him despite his protests. “I’m not leaving you!”“You don’t get it!” he snarled, firing another shot. “This isn’t a negotiation, Elena!”But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Something about the wa
Dante's POV. My heart pounded, not from fear of the bullets…I’d faced them too many times to count, but because I had her to think about now. “Stay close!” I barked, glancing back. Her face was pale, her wide eyes darting around the scene as if trying to process the madness unfolding around us. “What’s happening, Dante?” Her voice trembled, but there was a sharp edge of demand in it. “Not now,” I said tersely, yanking her to the side as a bullet whizzed past us, close enough that I felt its heat. My instincts screamed for action, but I shoved them down, focusing on finding cover. The park, once serene, was now a battlefield. Families abandoned picnic blankets, couples screamed as they dove for safety, and children clung to their parents, wailing. Angelo’s men were swarming, their black suits standing out among the fleeing civilians. “Over here!” I spotted an old maintenance building up ahead, its chipped walls offering some semblance of shelter. I pulled Elena toward it, weaving
Dante's POV. The park was quiet but alive, the early morning crowd just starting to pick up. Elena walked beside me, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, her eyes wandering over the greenery and the clusters of people gathered on benches. It wasn’t often I had the time to do something as mundane as this…walking in the open, pretending for a moment that I wasn’t a man with a target on my back. But Elena had wanted to go, and I found myself indulging her far more than I ever thought I would. “I’ll be back,” I told her as my phone buzzed in my pocket. The call was unavoidable; Luca wouldn’t have interrupted unless it was urgent. “Stay close.” She nodded absentmindedly, already distracted by a group of children chasing each other near the fountain. I stepped away, still keeping her within my sight as I answered the call. “Yes?” I barked into the phone, my voice low. “Dante, we’ve got movement on the docks. We think Angelo’s men are…” “I don’t care what you think. Get confirma
Dante's POV. Elena was pulling away, and it was my fault. I noticed it the next morning, the way she barely looked at me when we passed each other in the hall. She was still polite, still offered a soft “good morning,” but her voice lacked that fire I’d come to expect from her. At first, I told myself it was better this way. She needed to understand that my world wasn’t for her. That getting too close to me would only drag her into the darkness I lived with every day. But as the days passed, her silence started to weigh on me. She didn’t argue with me anymore, didn’t throw those sharp-witted comments my way like she used to. She ate dinner at the far end of the table instead of sitting near me. She stopped wandering into my office to challenge me with her questions or to steal glances when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. She was still here, but she felt so far away, and it was driving me insane. One afternoon, I caught her in the library. She was curled up on the couch, a
Elena's POV.The following morning, the air inside the mansion felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was just me…or maybe it was the way Dante’s men whispered around me like I was some forbidden creature. I wasn’t in the mood to decipher their behavior. My mind was still a tangled mess from everything that had happened yesterday. Marcus, Dante, the way he held me together when I thought I might shatter into a million pieces.But today, something else drew my attention.I was exploring the mansion again, not because I was trying to escape this time but because curiosity had sunk its claws into me. Dante’s world was terrifying, yes, but it was also intoxicating. The massiveness, the secrets hidden behind every closed door, the dangerous man who made me feel more alive than I’d ever been before…it all kept pulling me in deeper.That’s when I found it: a door at the end of the west wing, slightly ajar but still shadowed, almost like it wanted to hide in plain sight.I didn’t hear any of the g
Elena's POVThe car ride was silent after I’d cried myself dry, and Dante had handed me his handkerchief. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, gauging me, trying to figure me out in that maddening, calculating way of his.When the car came to a stop in front of his villa, I stepped out, letting the cool night air brush against my tear-streaked face. The villa was ahead grand and firm, much like the man standing behind me.Dante followed silently, his presence heavy, commanding. I wasn’t sure what to say to him after everything. My emotions were a mess…grief, betrayal, and confusion tangling into one…but if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I didn’t hate anything about him. Not anymore.If anything, I liked that he was with me. I liked that he stayed even when I was at my lowest. The thought scared me, but I couldn’t deny it anymore.“I want to walk,” I said, my voice was a little bit too low for my own good.But he heard me an
Dante’s POVThe car was quiet, save for the muffled sound of Elena’s sniffles beside me. She sat in the back seat, arms crossed tightly around herself, her face turned away toward the window. Even from where I sat, I could see her shoulders trembling, her head bowed. She was crying, trying hard to hide it, but failing miserably.Damn Marcus. That idiot of a brother. The mere thought of him made my jaw clench. I couldn’t believe she’d been forced to share blood with a man so vile, so weak. The anger burned in me like an old wound reopening, but when I looked at her, it dulled into something I couldn’t quite name. She didn’t deserve this. Not the betrayal, not the pain, and definitely not him.I shifted uncomfortably, my hands resting on my thighs. What the hell was I supposed to do? Comforting someone wasn’t exactly my forte. I’d spent years building walls, mastering silence, and commanding fear, not soothing broken hearts. And yet, watching her cry made something twist in my chest. It