One Hundred & Seventeen

One Hundred & Seventeen
The room smelled of damp concrete and iron. Chains rattled softly as Victor Langston lifted his head. Blood ran down from a cut on his cheek, his shirt torn and stained. He had been here for hours, and exhaustion lined every inch of his face.

Across from him, Dante sat calmly, sleeves rolled up. A small table separated them. On it a gun, a glass of water, and a faded photograph of a baby smiling in sunlight.

Elena, just a baby, long before the world had any idea who she would become.

Dante’s eyes lingered on the photo before meeting Victor’s. His voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut steel.

“Let’s talk.”

Victor laughed, weak and ragged. “You think this makes you any better than me, Dante? I did what I had to. We are both from the same tree. Don't act all righteous.”

Dante leaned forward, voice hard. “No. I'm not righteous Victor… never was.”

Victor glared, trying to hold onto pride. “You think you took Elena at your own will. I let it happen. Whatever happiness you have right now is because of me. You owe me!”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “She was never yours.”

Victor’s lips twisted into a bitter grin. “Oh, she was mine. When I took her as a baby.… tiny, helpless. Her father, Matthew Ravanelli, would never have handed over the shares I needed. , never let me in. But power… power doesn’t wait. I took her. I raised her. I made sure she had what she needed. I gave her a life.…and in return, she became mine to control.”

“You kidnapped her,” Dante said coldly. “And you used her.”

Victor’s voice rose. “I used her! I used her to climb! To gain what I couldn’t earn with my own name. The Ravanelli empire was untouchable. But I could touch it.…  through her bloodline. Through the leverage she gave me. That’s how this world works! You either control the board, or you become a pawn!”

Dante’s silence filled the room. Victor’s words hung heavy in the air, and his eyes flicked to the gun on the table, a hint of fear breaking through.

“She was supposed to be my key,” Victor said, his voice trembling slightly. “A baby, and already a prize in a game of power. I would have used her to bind the Ravanelli name to mine, to make her my advantage for life. But then you showed up.”

Dante’s eyes darkened, remembering the fire, the blood, the betrayal of years past. “You ruined her life. You bastard…”

Victor’s smirk faltered. “I did what had to be done. Corvo’s death… it wasn’t personal. Someone had to take the fall. You were the best pawn, reckless, dangerous.… easy to paint as a monster. The world believed it.”

Dante rose suddenly, the chair scraping against the concrete floor. The air grew heavier, colder.

“Enough,” he said softly. “You’ve taken enough from everyone.”

Victor’s head lifted, defiance still clinging to him. “Kill me, Dante. Be the monster people say you are.”

Dante turned toward the door, calm, deliberate. “You need to be rooted out of this world. Purge out. Even if she hates me... It needs to be done.”

He nodded to Nico. “Watch him. Don’t let him escape. I’ll be back.”

Victor’s voice followed him as he left. “You can’t erase me! I built her life!”

But the door clicked shut behind Dante, and the sound swallowed the room.


Later that night the storm outside had not let up. Rain slammed against the windows, lightning illuminating the city in brief, violent flashes.

Dante stood by the window in their suite, smoke curling from the cigarette in his fingers. He hadn’t slept. He didn’t need to. He had a reckoning to see through.

The door opened softly. Elena stepped in, her silk robe clinging to her shoulders, her bare feet silent on the cold marble. She looked at him instantly, eyes wide, voice trembling.

“You’ve been gone all day,” she said. “Nico told me where you were.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“You went after him,” she said, stepping closer. “Victor… you’re going to kill him.”

Dante’s silence confirmed it.

“I know what he did,” she whispered, voice breaking. “He kidnapped me. I know. But… he was there when I was small. He raised me. He gave me a name, a home… in his own twisted way. He was cruel, yes… but he was there.”

Dante turned toward her. The lightning lit his face, sharp and unyielding. He stepped closer, the storm reflected in his dark eyes.

“I know,” he said softly. “That’s why I’m telling you first. So you know what I will do, and why.”

Her lips trembled. “What will you do?”

“I’m going to end it,” he said. “All of it. Victor Langston. His lies. The ghosts that have followed you since the day he took you. I’m going to destroy the source of your pain.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to do this alone. You can just hand in over to the police….  No need to shred  blood.”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “If I don’t do this, he will never stop. He’ll keep crawling back, using your life as a ladder, using the world as his board. I cannot let that happen.”

Tears filled her eyes. “And what about you? What will be left of you when it’s over?”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, the storm outside echoing their silent pain.

“I'm not saint Elena,” he whispered. “Have killed men… people.. Shred blood.. Just killed Luciano and I don't care what will be left of me as long as you're safe, that's all that matters.”

She shook her head, whispering his name.

He kissed her then... slow, gentle, sorrowful. Not a passionate kiss, but a kiss full of all the words they never said. When he pulled back, his hand rested against her cheek, memorizing her face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But Victor Langston isn’t worth saving.”

Elena’s breath hitched. “I don't want any more blood on your hands. ”

He froze, his eyes dark. “It doesn't matter. As long as I can still protect what matters.”

Then he turned, walking out into the storm, leaving the door closing behind him like the end of a chapter written in blood and fire.

Elena remained in the suite, the rain pelting the windows, the city alive with the storm, and the knowledge that when Dante returned, nothing would be the same.