Chapter 82

Chapter 82
L A N A

He stops a few feet away from me, crouching slowly until we are almost at eye level, his gaze searching my face with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. I expect cruelty, a demand or another command that strips away what little control I have left.

But instead, his voice comes out calm, almost gentle...

“Are you hurt?” He says softly.

The question catches me off guard so completely that for a moment, I cannot answer. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I shake my head weakly, my entire body trembling as I try to understand what is happening.

"N-no..." I finally let out, my heartbeat thumping in my throat.

In distant parts of the house, the fight continues, gunfire echoing through the space, men shouting orders, but here, in this small pocket of stillness, everything feels unreal.

Dante glances behind him once before exhaling softly and standing to his feet, looking down at me and extending a hand toward me.

“Come with me,” he says. “Now.”

His gaze focuses on me, patient as he keeps his hand extended. I feel my heart continue to race as he stares back at me with an intensity that makes me feel like he is seeing every single part of me. For a moment, the world seems to narrow, the noise fading into the background as I struggle to catch my breath under his scrutiny.

That's when I slowly extend my hand out to him, allowing him to pull me back to my feet. I stand right in front of him, the distance between us making me feel completely nervous, his cologne soon evading my senses.

“What’s your name?” he then asks, not once taking his eyes off of me.

I remain quiet for a few seconds, trying to fathom the fact that a man this handsome can exist, a man even more handsome than my ex-fiance...

“Lana.” The word comes out breathless and fragile just as I let out a shaky breath to try and keep control of myself.

He squints his eyes at me but doesn't say anything in response to that, possibly because he knows I already know who he is.

“You’re coming with me,” he then says, and it sounds nothing like a request...

My heart drops as fear slowly recoils tight in my chest, my mind racing through every terrible possibility this sentence could lead to.

“W-why?” I manage to ask, my voice barely audible.

He glances back toward the doorway I fled from, where gunfire still echoes faintly, where screams still rise and fall like waves.

“If you’d rather stay here where your life will only remain at risk,” he says evenly, “then by all means, be my guest.”

He turns away as if the decision has already been made, as if my answer does not matter, his cologne brushing past me as he steps forward, clean and rich, sending my senses into chaos all over again.

“N-No... Wait...” I suddenly let out once I am reminded that if I don't go with him, I will never have another chance to leave this house... not while Ezio is here...

He pauses, lifting his head slightly before slowly facing me and turning around fully. He stares at me, waiting for me to say something, and that's when I take a quick, nervous look at all his men around us, all of them armed and vigilant, as if preparing for another wave of Ezio's men to burst into the hallway.

Finally, I look back at Dante, finding him staring back at me with a calm expression, and that's when I finally answer.

“I’ll come with you,” I whisper, fear curling through every syllable.

Only then does he glance over his shoulder, his gaze assessing, searching, before he gives a single nod.

“Alright. Come on.” He says, and that's when we begin to move.

I follow him without another word, trying to keep up with his hurried steps as we make our way through corridors and stairwells I do not recognise, his men forming a barrier around us as the sounds of violence grow more distant, my steps uneven as adrenaline begins to subside and exhaustion seeps in its place.

My mind is spinning, thoughts colliding with no clear shape, only fragments. Ezio’s face twisted in fury. The gunshot. The girl collapsing dead earlier, and Dante stepping between me and death with a sentence.

As we reach a lower level, the cool night air finally hits my skin, and I gasp softly, my chest tightening as the scent of smoke and fuel fills my lungs.

A car waits nearby, engine running.

Before I can stop myself, I ask the question burning a hole through me.

“Did you kill him?” I say, and Dante pauses beside the open door, his hand resting briefly on the roof as he looks back at me.

“No,” he says simply. “Ezio Benedetti isn’t an easy man to kill.”

I do not know whether to feel relieved or terrified by that.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he gestures for me to get inside.

“Somewhere safe,” he replies, his voice calm. “And far from here.”

It is not much of an answer, but it is enough to put my mind at ease, for now at least...

I slide into the back seat, my hands shaking as I clutch the fabric of my dress, and moments later, he joins me, the door closing with a finality that makes my stomach flip.

The car pulls away quickly, the mansion disappearing behind us as the road stretches ahead, dark and endless.

The silence inside the vehicle feels strange after the chaos, almost unreal, and I stare out the window as city lights blur past, my reflection staring back at me like a ghost.

For the first time since this chaos began, my breathing sounds much calmer.

The atmosphere here is different.

There are no threats whispered into my ear, no hands claiming my body as property, no eyes stripping me bare simply because they can.

Dante sits next to me, his posture relaxed but alert, his attention shifting occasionally to the road ahead, to his men, to the world outside, never lingering too long on me, and something inside my chest loosens despite myself.

I feel foolish for it, but at the same time... I also feel safe... and that thought terrifies me.

I wrap my arms around myself and finally let the tears continue, silent and unstoppable, my body shaking with everything I have been holding in since the lounge, since the gunshot, since the moment my life split into before and after.

Dante does not say anything. He does not tell me to stop. He simply lets the silence stretch, the car carrying us farther away from blood and music and power games I never asked to be part of.

I do not know where we are going.

I do not know what tomorrow looks like.

But for the first time since this nightmare began, I am no longer trapped in Ezio Benedetti’s shadow...

And that alone feels like a miracle...