Chapter 26 THE NAME THEY BURIED
Author’s POV:
Italy
Italy had always kept its secrets in stone.
Behind wrought-iron gates and centuries-old walls, the Vorn estate overlooked the Amalfi cliffs. Power, tradition and blood lived there. And buried among those traditions, a daughter who chose to disappear.
For years, they had watched her from a distance, without interference nor forgiveness. They were simply watching.
Until her name resurfaced in the worst possible place.
New York, linked to a rival Don.
The information arrived on Pietro Vorn’s desk just before midnight. He stared at the file for a long time before he smiled. Power-hungry men often mistook opportunity for destiny. Pietro was no exception.
“She’s been careless,” he murmured, flipping through secretly taken photographs.
“She was always careless,” he added, though bitterness edged his tone.
She had always been brighter than him. Smarter even. Favoured in ways he never was. Even as a stepdaughter, she had carried their father’s quiet respect.
And Pietro had carried resentment.
“She made her choice,” he said coldly. “Now she lives with it.”
He didn’t inform his father. The old Don would hesitate. The old Don still believed blood could be negotiated. Pietro believed blood could be erased.
“Bring her back,” he ordered his men.
They paused.
“Alive,” he added, almost lazily.
Then his voice lowered.
“But if she resists… make it look like an accident.”
The room fell silent. They all understood what he truly meant.
Dante Rafe heard about the order before dawn. He hadn’t meant to. But when you rise high enough in a family, whispers find you.
He was a Soldato now. Respected, feared, and trusted. And yet, he felt something fracture in his chest when he heard her name.
It wasn’t the version the world saw now. It wasn’t the woman in designer gowns beside powerful men. But the girl who used to sit on the estate walls and dream about a life that didn’t smell like gunpowder.
His best friend. His almost...
He intercepted the order quietly. Pietro’s signature, unapproved by the Don. It was careless, reckless, and deliberate.
He stood in the courtyard long after reading it. He could follow orders. That was expected.
Or… he could protect her. But that was forbidden.
He chose quickly nonetheless.
“Single ticket.” He told the staff at the airline counter.
“Destination?”
“New York.”
New York was louder than Italy. Colder too.
Dante arrived under the pretence of overseeing Vorn interests in the States. No one questioned a Soldato on business.
He tracked her movements with precision, and it didn’t take long before she was found.
She wasn’t hiding. She was being displayed.
He made it right in time for the charity gala. It was a public spectacle.
He stood near the balcony that evening, watching from shadows as chandeliers glittered above silk and diamonds.
And then he saw her. She was alive and untouched by Pietro’s order. But she was standing next to him. The enemy. The name Pietro and the Vorn family had spat like poison.
Dante’s jaw tightened, as he watched the enemies hand brush against hers. It screamed possessive, protective and territorial, all in a single motion.
The sight ignited something sharp inside him. She had always wanted freedom. And somehow she had ended up in another cage.
He didn’t know if she was there willingly. He didn’t know if she was trapped. But he knew one thing, if Pietro’s men reached her first, she would not survive.
So, Dante moved quickly.
The gala’s infrastructure was elaborate, but not impenetrable. All he needed was a discreet payment, a falsified maintenance override, and a timed disruption.
Then the alarm screamed. Smoke appeared, and panic surged.
Dante cut through the chaos like he’d been trained to do since he was sixteen.
He saw him gripping her hand. He saw the crowd separate them. He saw her profile through the haze.
“Jasmine,” Moretti shouted.
The name struck Dante harder than it should have.
He watched how she turned at the sound of her name, like he was protector.
And in that moment, he knew to take the opportunity before the found one another.
By the time he managed to get to her amidst all the smoke, he used the blunt edge of his weapon and connected with the side of her head. Clean, and precise.
She collapsed before the crowd could register anything.
Dante caught her before she hit the floor. The smoke thickened right on cue, and the crowd screams masked his movement.
He disappeared through the service corridor within seconds.
When Jasmine recovered her consciousness, she opened her eyes, and the world around her felt wrong. Concrete ceiling, industrial lighting, the faint scent of oil.
Her head throbbed badly, as she pushed herself up slowly. Her memory returned in fractured flashes. The alarm, the crowd, Nikolai shouting her name.
Her pulse spiked. She looked up, and then froze.
A man stood a few feet away, with crossed arms, watching her carefully. He had familiar eyes, but they were darker now, harder, but unmistakable.
Years had changed him, sharpened him perhaps. Turned the softness into steel.
“You’re awake.” He said over his shoulders, sensing her movements.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
“…Dante?”
Her gaze widened with shock. Of all the faces she had prepared herself to see, his was the one she never imagined.
“What are you doing here?”
“We have a lot to talk about.”