Chapter 32: Dante

Dante's POV

The drive to Sheila's house was quiet, but my mind was anything but. After confronting that bastard Leon—my sister's ex-boyfriend—I'd insisted on taking Val home myself. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about him, the way his eyes had lingered on her a second too long, filled with something that looked dangerously like obsession.

"You're quiet," Val said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft in the darkness of the car, the passing streetlights casting shadows across her face. It was strange how comfortable I felt with her beside me, how quickly she'd become someone I actually *wanted* to talk to.

"Just thinking about that asshole back there," I replied, my hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Has he always been that possessive?"

Val sighed. "Leon's always had issues with boundaries. It's part of why we broke up."

I glanced at her, noticing how she'd drawn her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller.

"You deserve better than that," I said before I could stop myself.

A small smile played on her lips. "Like who? You?"

The question hung in the air between us, I didn't answer, but the way her eyes lingered on me said enough.

"We're here," I announced as I pulled up to Sheila's house.

"Something's wrong," she whispered, freezing on the pathway.

I was beside her in an instant. "What is it?"

"I don't know. It just feels... off." Her eyes darted to the front door, which looked untouched. "The curtains are different. They're closed. Sheila always leaves them open when she's expecting me."

That was all I needed to hear. Years in the military and the club had taught me to trust those instincts. "Stay behind me," I instructed, my hand automatically reaching for the gun holstered at my side.

Val nodded, her own posture shifting to high alert. I approached the door cautiously, noting small details—a scuff mark on the doorframe that looked fresh, the porch light that should have been on but wasn't.

"Key?" I whispered, and Val handed it over, her fingers brushing against mine momentarily.

The door opened without resistance. Too easily. I stepped inside first, scanning the darkened living room. Nothing seemed obviously disturbed, but there was a faint scent in the air—cologne that didn't belong.

"Someone's been here," Val confirmed, her voice barely audible. "That's not Sheila's perfume."

We moved through the house methodically, checking each room for signs of an intruder. The kitchen was untouched, as was the small dining area. The bathroom door was ajar, exactly as it would be in an empty house. But when we reached Sheila's bedroom, Val gasped.

"The drawer's open," she pointed to the bedside table. "Sheila never leaves it like that."

I approached it carefully, noting how the contents seemed to have been hurriedly searched. "Does she keep anything valuable in there?"

"Just personal stuff—" Val started to say, but was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

"Val? Are you here? The lights are on—" Sheila's voice called out, before cutting off in a blood-curdling scream. "Someone's been in my house! Oh my God, the lock looks different!"

Val rushed to her friend, finding her trembling in the hallway. "Sheila, calm down. It's just us—me and Dante."

"Someone broke in!" Sheila was nearly hysterical, clutching Val's arm. "Look at the lock! It's got tiny scratches. Someone picked it! I'm calling the police right now!"

The mention of police made me roll my eyes. The last thing I needed was Val's ex-boyfriend showing up here with his badge and attitude. "Leon is a cop, isn't he? You really want him responding to this call?"

Val's face paled at the realization. "No, definitely not." She turned to Sheila, who was already fumbling with her phone. "Wait, Sheila. Let's think about this."

"What is there to think about? Someone broke into my house!" Sheila was shaking, tears streaming down her face.

I stepped forward. "Look, I know someone who can help without involving the police. My uncle has security experience and can be discreet. Let me call him."

Val shot me a grateful look as I stepped outside to make the call. Uncle Matteo would know what to do—he always did in situations like this. When I returned, Val and Sheila were in the bedroom, continuing to check if anything was missing.

"Uncle Matteo will be here in twenty minutes," I informed them, watching as Val methodically went through Sheila's belongings, helping her determine if anything had been taken.

"The jewelry's all here," Sheila said, her voice steadier now. "And my laptop's untouched."

I scanned the room, noting something small and electronic partially hidden under the bed. "What's this?" I asked, bending down to pick it up. The device was about the size of a small remote control, with several buttons and what looked like a small speaker.

Sheila peered over my shoulder, then let out a startled laugh. "Valentina's virtual boyfriend," Sheila explained. "She's been using him for months now."

I stared at the innocuous-looking device, suddenly realizing what it was. "Is this the trash toy that can't make you squirt?" I asked bluntly.

Valentina's face flushed crimson. "Dante!"

Without saying another word, I placed the vibrator on the bedside table and asked her confidently, "Do you think you still need it now?"