Chapter 75: Who is Dante?

Ivy's POV

The slap rang out like a gunshot the moment he raised his hand towards me.  

John’s head snapped to the side, his greasy hair whipping across his face.  

The room stayed deathly silent.  

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. His lip quivered, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he processed what had just happened.  

I tilted my head, my smile sharpening. “What’s wrong, Johnny?” I cooed. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”  

His jaw clenched, and he slowly turned back to me, a flicker of rage behind his bloodshot eyes. “I—”  

Slap!

This time, I felt the sting ripple up my arm, but I didn’t care.  

John reeled back again, stumbling against the officers holding him. His confidence cracked. I saw the hesitation bloom, the bravado slipping.  

My voice dropped, low and venomous. “You always wanted me to play along, right? Well, I’m playing now.”  

His lips trembled.  

I stepped closer, towering over him, watching as the little coward inside him began to surface. The same pathetic kid who used to follow me, who used to watch me, thinking he could get away with it.  

There he was. The real Johnny.  

The one who had always been weak.  

“There, there,” I murmured mockingly, tilting my head. “Now that’s the Johnny I remember.”  

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.  

I bent down slightly, locking our gazes. “Now, since I’ve fulfilled my part, it’s time for you to do the same.” My voice was a razor’s edge. “You did touch me, didn’t you?”  

John shook his head quickly—then, just as fast, he nodded. His whole body trembled like a leaf in a storm.  

I inhaled deeply, my cold gaze never wavering. “Tell me, Johnny…” I murmured. “What do you know?”  

He flicked his gaze toward the officers as if searching for a savior.  

“You know,” I continued, my voice turning sweet, “Dear old Daddy isn’t here to save you this time.” 

I leaned in, close enough to see the sweat gathering at his temples. “So you’re going to do me a favor. You’re going to tell me everything, or I swear, the last thing you’ll hear before you go deaf is the sound of my palm against your cheek.”  

Tears welled in his eyes.  

For a moment, I just watched him, drinking in the sight of my nightmare trembling before me. The weight of all those nights I woke up screaming, the paranoia of always looking over my shoulder—this was justice, my justice.  

He whispered something, voice barely above a breath.  

I leaned closer, close enough to feel the terror rolling off him in waves. “Speak up,” I ordered. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your beating heart.”  

His lip trembled. “I—I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he whimpered. “I don’t know anything.” His head snapped toward the officers. “Is this even legal?”  

Leo moved forward, but I was faster.  

Slap!

John gasped, his head whipping back, a thin line of blood trickling from his lip.  

I grabbed his chin roughly, forcing him to look at me. “You said you heard something.” My voice was sharp, seething. “So spill.”  

John let out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, voice cracking. “I don’t know much, but—” he swallowed hard, “—my supplier mentioned that someone was pissed that a ‘bird’ he caught escaped.” 

His gaze flickered toward me. “And by bird, they meant you.”  

I felt Leo’s growl vibrate through the room.  

Connor stiffened beside him, his entire frame locked tight.  

John, in all his stupidity, gave me a weak smirk. “Guess you left quite the impression, sweetheart.”  

I lifted my hand again, and John flinched. 

“Okay, okay!” he yelped. “I’ll talk!” He licked his lips nervously. “I don’t know much, but the name I heard was Dante.”  

Dante?  

I exchanged glances with the officers.  

One of them frowned, scribbling on his notepad. “Dante who?”  

John shook his head. “Just Dante,” he swore. “That’s all I know. I swear on my babies.” 

His gaze darted toward the officers, desperation settling in. “Now, if you could please give me some of my babies you confiscated, I’ll walk out that door, and you’ll never see me again.”  

Leo didn’t even hesitate.  

He stepped forward, his presence suffocating, and grabbed John’s collar. His voice was ice. “Listen to me, dog.”  

John stiffened, all remnants of his cockiness vanishing.  

Leo’s voice dipped lower, darker. “I don’t give a shit about your games, your drugs, or your 

pitiful excuse of a life.” His grip tightened. “But if I ever see you in this city again, you should be

more excited about getting hit by a car than running into me.”  

John swallowed thickly, his entire body trembling.  

Connor took a step forward, his voice just as lethal. “And if I see you? There won’t be enough left of you to identify.”  

John whimpered. “Is this even legal?!” he screeched.  

The officers began whistling, turning their heads away.  

That’s what happens when Leo Ashton is involved.  

John was dragged away moments later, still begging for his drugs, still twitching.  

As they pulled him from the mansion, I took one last opportunity—  

And stomped on his foot, relishing the way his scream echoed through the halls.  

Sweet.  

When the door slammed shut, silence returned—briefly.  

Leo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “We need to find out who this Dante is.”  

One of the officers nodded. “We’ll have to go undercover. Blend in with the streets. See who he really is and what he wants with your fiancée.”  

Leo’s jaw flexed. “Do it.”  

The officers left soon after, but the tension in the room didn’t fade.  

Leo turned to Connor. His voice was sharp. “Why are you still here?”  

I rolled my eyes at the drama.  

Connor didn’t move, staring at me instead.  

Leo’s Alpha voice cracked through the air. “Do I need to kick you out, or would you rather walk away with your pride?”  

Connor flinched.  

His fists clenched, his head bowing slightly—just like everyone else in the room.  

Even I, without a wolf, felt the weight of Leo’s command.  

But Connor…  

He was an Alpha, too.  

So why was it affecting him this much?  

I felt… bad.  

He did save me.  

If not for him, who knows what this Dante would’ve done to me?  

So, before I could second-guess myself, I did what anyone in my shoes would have done.  

I stepped forward—  

And hugged him.  

It was brief. Barely a second. But when I whispered a quiet, “Thank you,” I felt the spark.  

The moment our bodies touched, something ignited. A spark. A current of energy, raw and electric.

The mate bond flared to life.

I recoiled as if burned, stumbling backward—straight into Leo’s chest.

Oh, shit.

I had never accepted the rejection. And Connor had never fully rejected me, either. What next? Should I reject him? How do I get the closure?

Leo’s arms wrapped around me protectively. His breath was hot against my ear, his voice a low growl. “He’s gone. You can stop looking.”

I swallowed.

Leo’s grip tightened. “Now you reek of him.” His nose brushed against my neck, inhaling deeply. His voice darkened, possessive. “I’ll have to bathe you again.”

A grin broke across my face.

Before I could protest, Leo tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, smacking my butt.

But then, my phone rang.

I laughed, smacking his back. “Put me down! It’s my dad.”

Leo froze. Immediate retreat.

I snickered as he set me down, looking like a boy who's afraid of his girlfriend's strict father.

I picked up the call. “Sweetheart,” my father’s voice rang out. I could hear Uncle Marcus laughing in the background.

“Hi, Dad. Hi, Uncle.”

“You sound happy,” my father teased. “Anything happen?”

“Nope. I’m with Leo,” I added. “The police just left.”

Silence.

Then Uncle Marcus’ laughter boomed. “Pumpkin, you should see your father’s face right now.”

My father muttered something, and Uncle Marcus cackled. “Then why accept the engagement if you’re not ready to give her away?”

My father then let out a heavy sigh. “Sweetheart, are you—”

“For the millionth time, Dad, I’m not pregnant!”

Silence.

“I was going to ask if you were alright. And how it went with the police,” my father said dryly.

I winced. “Oh.”

"I'm fine. But… Jo… the suspect mentioned a name—Dante."  

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. I didn't want my father to know about John—not yet. Maybe I’d tell him when he got back.  

Silence.  

A heavy, unnatural silence.  

"Dad?"

My father’s voice came through, sharp and fear-stricken.

“Did you just say Dante?”

My heart pounded. “Yes,” I said cautiously.

Uncle Marcus let out a deep sigh.

“Fuck,” he muttered.