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
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
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.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.I could feel the tension in the cramped apartment, the walls almost closing in as I stood in the small kitchen, stirring a pot of instant ramen. The smell of cheap noodles mingled with the stale air, making my stomach churn. My brother Marcus burst through the door, the heavy thud sounding through the tiny space, and I prepared myself for the storm.“Why can’t you do anything right, Elena?” His voice boomed, filled with frustration and something darker, something I had come to recognize as hatred. “Look at this mess! You’re just a bad luck charm, you know that? Ever since Mom and Dad…”“Shut up!” I snapped, spinning around to face him, my heart racing. “You don’t get to blame me for their deaths! I didn’t ask them to drive that night!”He stepped closer, his face a mask of rage, fists clenched at his sides. “You think you’re so innocent? They died because of you! All because you were too spoiled to take care of yourself! They went to cater to your whims, and look what hap
Elena's POV.I watched in disbelief as Marcus strolled back into the apartment, holding a plastic bag with a bottle of some fancy drink peeking out. It was evening and there was a different kind of look on his face. For a second, I almost thought he looked… calm. Too calm."Here," he grunted, setting the bottle down on the rickety table in front of me. "Figured you'd want something cold after that… scene you caused." His voice was oddly smooth, almost friendly…a tone I hadn’t heard in years.I looked from him to the bottle, suspicion bubbling up like bile in my throat. "What is this?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Since when do you buy me anything?”Marcus forced a tight smile, though his eyes stayed cold and hard. "Oh, come on, Elena," he said with a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. "I just thought I’d do something nice for once. You can keep acting like a brat, or you can just enjoy the drink."His words stung, but the mocking edge in his voice stung even more. He raised an eyebrow
Elena's POV.Marcus’s desperate voice was still shouting, pleading as if his life depended on it…which, I supposed, it did."Please, Mr. Moretti," he choked out, soaked and shaking. "Take her. She can be… she can be anything you need her to be. Just please… please…"“Enough!” Dante’s voice roared through the rain, a cold command that made everyone freeze. Marcus shut his mouth instantly, staring at Dante like a cornered rat, trembling as he waited for his verdict. My heart raced; for a second, I dared to hope. Maybe this man would laugh in Marcus's face, give him a final warning, and let me go.But then Dante’s gaze fell on me again, and my stomach knotted. He looked me up and down, with his eyes dark and calculating. Every second stretched out as he silently sized me up, the power he wielded radiating like a dark cloud. My skin crawled under his piercing stare, every instinct screaming at me to run. As if I could.And then, as abruptly as it started, the rain stopped. Like some twist
Dante's POV.As I made my way to the room, it was the middle of the night, hours after I'd handled that betrayal. Bloodstains had long dried on my cuff, a reminder that some people needed their fate handed to them in pieces. That idiot Marcus hadn't been any different, trading his own sister like she was some bargaining chip. It still amazed me how daily a man could see his soul…and in this case, his family, for a little relief from debt. But now, I was left with the baggage he'd dropped at my doorstep.The girl was in the room at the far end, the one we typically reserved for prisoners with... potential. Her name was still in my head; Elena. The name suited her, sharp but delicate. Yet, I wasn't sure what she thought she could do here, trussed up and at my mercy. I pushed the door open, letting it creak closed behind me. She was standing next to the window, hands and legs still bound in ropes, like a pathetic figure standing against the city lights. Her hair, which was still damp fr
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