Chapter 11

The weight of Dante’s words settled over me like a vice, tightening until I could barely breathe.

"This is about you."

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to believe that I was just collateral damage in this war, that my father was the real target. But deep down, I knew.

I had become a threat.

And threats didn’t get warnings. They got eliminated.

I gripped the edge of the table, my nails digging into the wood. “Who the hell are these people, Dante?”

He watched me carefully, as if gauging just how much truth I could handle. “The kind of people who don’t leave loose ends.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“They knew we were coming,” I whispered, my mind racing. “They set us up. They could’ve killed us. So why didn’t they?”

Dante’s jaw flexed. “Because they want you scared.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s working.”

For the first time, something flickered in his gaze—something I almost mistook for regret. But it was gone too fast, replaced by the cold, calculated focus that defined him.

“Then stop playing into their hands,” he said firmly. “We fight back.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “How? We have no leads, no proof, no idea who’s pulling the strings.”

Dante smirked, but it was sharp, almost dangerous. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

He pulled out his phone, swiped through a few screens, and then turned it toward me.

The image made my stomach drop.

It was surveillance footage—grainy but clear enough. A man exiting the warehouse just before the shooting started.

I leaned closer. “Who is that?”

Dante’s smirk widened. “The man who tried to kill us.”

The man in the footage was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a sharp suit that screamed money. His face was mostly obscured by the angle, but something about him felt… calculated.

Like he was above the chaos.

Dante tapped the screen. “Meet Matteo Salvi.”

The name sent a jolt through me. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Because he used to work for Ferrara.”

My pulse spiked. “You think he’s behind all of this?”

“I think he’s part of it,” Dante corrected. “But no one takes this kind of risk unless they’re working for someone bigger.”

The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the picture they were forming terrified me.

“If Ferrara is dead,” I said carefully, “then whoever he was answering to… they’re still out there.”

Dante nodded, his expression grim. “And they just put a target on your back.”

The air inside the safe house felt suffocating. Every window, every shadow felt like a potential threat.

I paced the living room, arms wrapped around myself. “What now?”

Dante leaned against the counter, watching me. “We go after Salvi.”

I froze. “You mean confront him?”

“Not yet,” he said. “We track him first. Find out who he’s working for. Make him feel the same pressure he’s putting on us.”

I swallowed hard. “And what if that doesn’t work?”

Dante smirked. “Then we take him off the board.”

The casual way he said it sent a shiver through me.

“You make it sound easy.”

His expression darkened. “It is.”

For him, maybe. But for me? I wasn’t sure I was ready for the lines we were about to cross.

The tension between us had been simmering for days, but now, with the walls closing in and our enemies circling, it felt unbearable.

I turned away, my mind spinning. “I need air.”

Dante pushed off the counter. “You’re not going outside.”

I shot him a glare. “I wasn’t asking permission.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he watched as I stepped toward the large windows, staring out at the night sky.

“Do you regret it?” I asked softly.

He moved closer, his presence a heat against my back. “Regret what?”

“Dragging me into this.”

His silence stretched long enough that I almost thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then, finally...

“I regret that you had to see this world for what it really is.”

I turned to face him. “And what is that?”

Dante studied me, his gray eyes unreadable. “A place where trust gets you killed.”

The words sent a sharp ache through me. “Is that why you don’t trust anyone?”

His lips curled slightly. “Who says I don’t?”

I scoffed. “Oh, please. You control everything. You manipulate everyone. You don’t let people in.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to something almost dangerous. “And yet, you’re standing here.”

My breath caught.

Something flickered between us—something raw, unspoken.

I should have stepped back. I should have put space between us.

But I didn’t.

And neither did he.

Instead, his hand lifted, brushing against my jaw, his touch both firm and hesitant.

“You should hate me,” he murmured.

I swallowed hard. “I do.”

His smirk was almost sad. “Liar.”

And then...

His lips crashed against mine.

The moment Dante kissed me, the world outside ceased to exist.

There was no danger. No threats. No looming death sentence.

Only heat.

Only his hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer.

Only my fingers tangling in his hair, desperate and reckless.

The tension that had been building for days finally snapped, and I was too far gone to care.

Dante pressed me against the wall, his body firm against mine, his lips demanding, claiming.

But just as quickly as it started.

He pulled away.

His breathing was heavy, his forehead pressed against mine.

“This is a mistake,” he murmured.

I swallowed, my pulse erratic. “I know.”

Neither of us moved.

Then, finally, Dante stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “We need to focus.”

I nodded, forcing my breathing to steady. “Right. Salvi.”

Dante’s eyes flickered to mine, still dark with something unreadable.

But he said nothing.

Because we both knew.

It was already too late.