18

The moment Moretti’s body hit the floor, the weight of everything settled over me like a final, inescapable truth. It was over.

And yet, I wasn’t sure I knew what that meant anymore.

Dante stood beside me, lowering his gun, his expression unreadable. The room was silent except for the faint ringing in my ears. Blood pooled around Moretti’s lifeless form, staining the expensive marble floors. The man who had ordered my death, the man who had ruined my father, had been taken out with a single shot.

I thought I would feel relief.

But all I felt was the steady hum of adrenaline in my veins.

Dante’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “We need to move.”

I swallowed hard, forcing my body into action. “What now?”

He stepped closer, his hand finding the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. “Now we disappear before his men realize their king is dead.”

We moved quickly, slipping back through the corridors, stepping over bodies without hesitation. Dante’s men had done their job well—there was no one left to stop us.

By the time we reached the exit, the cool night air hit my face like a slap, grounding me, reminding me that this was real. That I was still standing while Moretti wasn’t.

Dante signaled to one of his men, and within seconds, a car pulled up, sleek and black, blending into the darkness.

We got inside, the doors slamming shut, the driver pulling away before either of us had a chance to speak.

I exhaled shakily, resting my head against the seat. “It’s really over, isn’t it?”

Dante glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “It’s never really over.”

A chill ran through me.

I turned to face him fully. “You think there will be retaliation?”

His jaw tightened. “There always is.”

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. I should have known better than to think one death could erase everything.

Moretti was gone. But the people who had stood beside him? The men who had built their own power alongside his?

They wouldn’t let this go.

I clenched my fists. “Then what do we do?”

Dante’s lips curled into something sharp. “We make sure they know who they’re dealing with.”

The drive back to the safe house was silent, tension thick between us.

I could feel the weight of Dante’s gaze, studying me, measuring my reaction.

I turned to him, meeting his eyes. “You think I regret it?”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Do you?”

I should have.

I should have felt something other than this quiet, unsettling sense of satisfaction.

But I didn’t.

I exhaled. “No.”

Dante’s gaze darkened, something flickering in his expression. Approval. Understanding. Something more dangerous than either of us was ready to name.

“You’re not the same woman who walked into my office weeks ago,” he murmured.

I swallowed hard. “No, I’m not.”

His smirk widened. “Good.”

I should have been afraid of what that meant.

But instead, I felt powerful.

Back at the safe house, Dante’s men were already moving, securing everything, making sure we weren’t followed.

Dante led me inside, his hand lingering on the small of my back, a silent reassurance I wasn’t sure I needed.

The second the door closed behind us, I turned to him. “What happens now?”

His expression didn’t waver. “Now, we wait.”

I frowned. “For what?”

“For the dust to settle.”

I exhaled sharply. “And then?”

Dante stepped closer, his gaze locked onto mine. “Then we see who’s still standing.”

A shiver ran through me, but not from fear.

From anticipation.

I had spent my whole life running. Watching my father fall apart. Watching men like Moretti take everything from us.

But not anymore.

Now, I was standing.

And I wasn’t planning on falling anytime soon.

Dante tilted his head, studying me. “You’re thinking too much.”

I smirked. “And you’re not thinking enough.”

His hand moved to my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I think about everything, Olivia.”

My breath caught.

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, slow, deliberate. “And right now, I’m thinking about you.”

My pulse jumped.

I should have stepped back.

I should have pulled away.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I tilted my chin up, challenging him. “Then stop thinking.”

Dante’s smirk was the last thing I saw before his lips crashed against mine.

The world outside didn’t matter. The blood, the war we had just started, the enemies waiting in the shadows.

For now, there was only this.

Only him.

And for the first time, I didn’t care about the consequences.

Dante’s lips were demanding, his grip firm as he pulled me closer, molding me against him like he had every right to. And maybe he did. Maybe, after everything, after all the chaos, all the death, all the choices that had led me here—I had already become his.

The thought should have scared me.

Instead, it made me want more.

I fisted my hands in his shirt, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. He groaned against my lips, his fingers tightening at my waist as if he was trying to remind himself to take it slow. But there was nothing slow about this. About us.

There had never been.

Dante walked me backward, his movements controlled even in his desperation, until my back hit the edge of the desk in the dimly lit study. His hands skimmed up my arms, my waist, his touch like fire searing my skin.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Olivia,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low, dangerous.

I smirked, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I know exactly what I’m asking for.”

His gray eyes darkened, the last thread of his control snapping. He lifted me onto the desk, stepping between my legs, his fingers digging into my thighs as his mouth found mine again.

And then—

His phone rang.

The sharp sound sliced through the haze between us. I sucked in a breath as he pulled away, his expression flickering from frustration to something sharper, more lethal.

The moment was over.

Dante sighed, pressing his forehead against mine before stepping back, pulling his phone from his pocket. “What?” he snapped.

I took the moment to steady myself, my breathing still uneven.

Dante listened, his jaw tightening with every second that passed. His hand curled into a fist at his side, and then he ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“What?” I asked, my pulse spiking.

He exhaled slowly, as if forcing himself to stay calm. “We have a problem.”

I frowned. “What kind of problem?”

Dante’s expression darkened. “Moretti’s men aren’t standing down.”

My stomach twisted. “They’re retaliating?”

“They’re not just retaliating,” he said coldly. “They’re making it personal.”

I swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

Dante hesitated, just for a second, before his gaze locked onto mine.

“They took your father.”

Everything inside me stilled.

The world tilted.

My fingers tightened against the desk. “No.”

Dante’s eyes were unreadable, but his voice was firm. “Yes.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would they.”

“They know they can’t get to you,” Dante cut in. “So they’re going after the next best thing.”

My heart pounded against my ribs, fear and anger colliding inside me.

I had barely had time to process Moretti’s death. I had barely had time to breathe, to accept that maybe, just maybe, we had won.

But now?

Now, they were proving that this wasn’t over.

That it would never be over.

Not until one of us was dead.

Dante reached for my hand, his grip tight, grounding. “We’ll get him back.”

I looked up at him, something raw in my chest. “And what if we don’t?”

Dante’s jaw flexed. “We will.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “How do you know?”

His smirk was cold, ruthless. “Because they just made their last mistake.”

I exhaled, forcing myself to push past the panic.

This was my father.

This was personal.

And if they thought they could use him against me.

They were about to find out exactly how dangerous I could be.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

Dante’s gaze was sharp. “We don’t know yet. But we will.”

I clenched my fists. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Dante studied me for a long moment, and then, just like that, his smirk returned.

“You really have changed, sweetheart,” he murmured.

I didn’t smile. “And you really shouldn’t underestimate me.”

Dante chuckled, dark and approving.

“Let’s go burn their world to the ground.”