12

The moment between us had passed.

But the damage was done.

I could still feel Dante’s touch lingering on my skin, the weight of his body pressing against mine, the way his breath had tangled with mine.

It was reckless.

It was stupid.

And it couldn’t happen again.

I forced the thoughts away as I sat across from him at the dining table in the safe house. A map was spread between us, littered with notes and highlighted locations. But I wasn’t looking at the map—I was watching Dante.

He was focused, his fingers tapping against the table as he analyzed the information.

But something was different.

He was avoiding looking at me.

And for some reason, that pissed me off.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence. “What’s the plan?”

Dante finally met my gaze, his expression unreadable. “We move on Salvi. Tonight.”

My heart skipped. “Tonight?”

He nodded. “He’s leaving the city in the morning. If we don’t act now, we might not get another chance.”

I hesitated. “And by ‘act,’ you mean...?”

Dante leaned back in his chair, studying me. “We make him talk.”

Something in his tone made my stomach tighten.

“What if he won’t?” I asked.

Dante smirked, slow and sharp. “He will.”

I swallowed hard. I knew what he was saying.

There were lines I hadn’t crossed yet.

Lines I wasn’t sure I was ready to cross.

But after the ambush, after my father’s disappearance, after the threats against my life—

Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

We drove in silence.

Dante’s men had traced Salvi to a private club on the outskirts of the city—one of those places where power was bought and deals were made in the dark.

“This place is crawling with security,” I muttered as we pulled into the back parking lot.

Dante killed the engine. “That’s why we’re not walking through the front door.”

I turned to him, my pulse picking up. “Then how are we getting in?”

His smirk was almost lazy. “The way I always do.”

I exhaled. “Which is?”

Dante leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Like I own the place.”

And damn it—he did.

We entered through a side entrance, Dante flashing a card at a bouncer who barely looked at him before letting us through.

Inside, the club was dimly lit, filled with low music and murmured conversations.

It smelled like money and corruption.

Dante’s hand found the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd. “Stay close.”

I should have pulled away.

But I didn’t.

Because the truth was—I didn’t want to.

We found Salvi in a private lounge, surrounded by two other men. He was exactly like he looked in the surveillance footage—controlled, dangerous, and utterly unconcerned with the world around him.

Until he saw Dante.

Salvi’s expression barely flickered, but I saw the tension in his shoulders.

“Castelli,” he greeted smoothly, swirling the drink in his hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Dante smiled, slow and dangerous. “That makes two of us.”

Salvi’s gaze flicked to me, his interest piqued. “And you must be Olivia Duarte.”

I forced myself not to react.

Dante’s grip on my waist tightened, just for a second.

“I’d be careful with how you say her name,” Dante said, his tone deceptively calm.

Salvi chuckled. “Relax, Castelli. I’m just curious. You don’t usually let women into your business.”

Dante’s smirk didn’t reach his eyes. “She’s not just any woman.”

My stomach twisted.

I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a compliment—or a warning.

Salvi set his glass down, stretching his arms. “Let’s skip the formalities. I assume you’re here about Ferrara.”

Dante tilted his head. “Good. Saves me the trouble of asking.”

Salvi’s smirk widened. “And what exactly do you want to know?”

I spoke before I could stop myself. “Who killed him?”

Salvi’s gaze snapped to me, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

Then, he laughed.

“You’re bold,” he said, almost approvingly. “I see why Castelli keeps you close.”

I clenched my fists.

Dante didn’t smile. “Answer the question.”

Salvi exhaled dramatically, leaning forward. “You think I know?”

Dante’s expression didn’t change. “I think you know exactly who gave the order.”

Salvi’s smirk wavered. “And if I did?”

Dante leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “Then you’d be a dead man sitting.”

The air went thick.

Salvi’s hand twitched slightly toward his jacket, but Dante was faster.

In a blink, he had his gun pressed against Salvi’s ribs, hidden from view beneath the table.

I barely stopped myself from gasping.

Salvi froze.

Dante smiled. “Let’s not make a scene.”

For the first time, Salvi looked unsure.

“This is a mistake,” he muttered.

Dante’s grip tightened. “No, Salvi. The mistake was thinking I’d let this go.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Then...

“I don’t know who pulled the trigger,” Salvi admitted. “But I know who wanted him dead.”

Dante didn’t move. “Who?”

Salvi exhaled.

Then, quietly...

“The same people who want her dead.”

My pulse pounded as Salvi pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table.

Dante took it, his eyes scanning the name written on it.

His entire body went still.

I leaned forward, trying to read it. “Who is it?”

Dante didn’t answer.

He just looked at me.

And for the first time since this started.

I saw something in his eyes that scared me.

Not anger.

Not control.

But something dangerously close to regret.

I grabbed the paper, my breath hitching as I read the name.

And then...

The world tilted beneath me.

Because I knew that name.

I had trusted that name.

And now...

It was the name of the person trying to kill me.