19

Dante didn’t waste time. Within minutes, his men were gathered, the room charged with the kind of tension that only came before war. I stood beside him, my pulse steady despite the fear coiling inside me. My father was out there—somewhere—and every second that passed was another second he was in danger.

Dante’s second-in-command, Luca, stepped forward, a tablet in his hands. “We’ve tracked movement from Moretti’s men,” he said, swiping through images and data. “They’re holed up in a compound outside the city. Remote. Heavily guarded.”

Dante nodded, his face unreadable. “Weapons?”

“Enough to start a war.” Luca’s expression was grim. “They’re not playing, boss. They know we’re coming.”

I swallowed hard. “Do they know we found them?”

Dante’s smirk was slow, predatory. “Not yet.”

The men around us stiffened, their focus shifting to him. He was their leader, the one they looked to when the odds were against them. And he thrived in moments like this.

“We hit them before they expect it,” Dante continued. “Fast. Clean. No mercy.” His gaze flickered to me, something unreadable in his eyes. “We get her father back.”

Luca hesitated. “And if he’s already dead?”

The room went silent. The air thickened.

Dante tilted his head, his smirk disappearing. “Then we make them wish they were.”

I forced myself to breathe. I couldn’t think like that. I wouldn’t.

My father was alive.

He had to be.

Luca nodded. “We move in an hour.”

Dante dismissed the men, but as I turned to leave, he caught my wrist. “Stay.”

I looked up at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse jumped at his touch. “Dante, I don’t need a lecture.”

His smirk returned. “That’s exactly what someone about to do something reckless would say.”

I pulled free. “You think I’m going to run in guns blazing?”

His expression darkened. “I think you’d walk through fire for the people you love.”

I exhaled, my hands curling into fists. “So would you.”

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest second before snapping back up. “That’s why you’re staying close to me.”

I should have argued.

But I didn’t.

Because, deep down, I knew he was right.

The ride to the compound was silent, the hum of the engines the only sound in the convoy of SUVs cutting through the darkness.

I sat beside Dante in the lead vehicle, his hand resting on the gear shift, his eyes locked on the road.

He looked calm. Controlled.

I knew better.

He was a storm waiting to break.

“We go in fast,” he said, breaking the silence. “They won’t expect you.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at me. “They think you’re weak.”

Anger flared in my chest. “Then let’s prove them wrong.”

Dante’s smirk was sharp. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The compound loomed ahead, a fortress of steel and concrete, guarded by men who had no idea death was already knocking on their door.

Luca’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “We’ve got four on the east side, another six at the main gate.”

Dante nodded, his hand brushing against my thigh as he reached for his gun. “We move on my signal.”

I exhaled, my fingers curling around the weapon in my lap. My father was in there. This wasn’t about revenge. It wasn’t even about survival.

This was about saving him.

Dante’s voice was low. “You ready?”

I turned to him, my heart pounding. “I was born ready.”

His smirk was pure satisfaction. “Then let’s remind them who they’re dealing with.”

The attack was brutal.

Dante’s men moved like ghosts, taking out the outer guards before the first alarm could sound.

Gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks echoing through the night as we pushed forward.

Dante stayed close, his presence a steady force beside me, his movements calculated, efficient.

I followed, my body humming with adrenaline, each shot precise, each step controlled.

We were winning.

Then, everything went to hell.

A burst of gunfire forced us back, bullets tearing through the night.

Luca’s voice rang in my ear. “They were ready for us.”

Dante cursed, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind cover. “Stay down.”

I glared at him. “I’m not running.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t have time to argue with you, Olivia.”

I lifted my gun. “Then don’t.”

His smirk was quick, almost proud. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

I returned the smirk. “You too.”

Dante peeked over the barrier, his gun raised. “Move on my signal.”

I nodded.

And then, with a single word, the war truly began.

“Now.”

We surged forward, cutting through Moretti’s men with precision.

Bodies fell.

Blood stained the ground.

And then I saw him.

My father.

Tied to a chair in the center of the compound, blood dripping from his temple, his breaths shallow.

Something inside me snapped.

“Dad!” I sprinted forward before Dante could stop me, my heart slamming against my ribs.

My father’s head lifted weakly. “Olivia...”

A gun cocked.

And suddenly, there was a man behind him, a gun pressed to his skull.

I skidded to a stop, my breath caught in my throat.

The man smirked. “One more step, and he’s dead.”

Dante cursed under his breath, his gun raised. “Let him go.”

The man chuckled. “Not how this works, Castelli.”

My hands trembled. “Please,” I whispered.

The man’s smirk widened. “Begging already? I expected more of you, princess.”

Dante’s voice was like ice. “Last chance.”

The man pressed the barrel harder against my father’s skull. “Or what?”

And then...

A single shot.

The man crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Dante lowered his gun. “Or that.”

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then, suddenly, I was running, falling to my knees beside my father.

His breathing was ragged, his eyes fluttering open. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I choked back a sob. “Neither should you.”

Dante crouched beside me, his hand brushing my back. “We need to go.”

I nodded, helping my father up, supporting his weight as we moved toward the exit.

Moretti’s empire had fallen.

But as we walked through the wreckage, I knew one thing.

This wasn’t the end.

This was just the beginning.