CH-29

CH-29
Dante POV

The name burns through me like acid.

Isabella De Luca.

Cassian wants her dead.
The same man who just dragged us out of Selene’s noose has decided she’s the next pawn to be sacrificed.
I fold the paper slowly, shoving it into my jacket pocket. “Get inside,” I tell Isabella and Marco. My voice is steady, but inside, I’m one heartbeat away from ripping Cassian’s throat out.
“What is it?” Isabella narrows her eyes.
“Another lead,” I lie.
Her gaze lingers on me like she can peel away my lies with a single glance, but she doesn’t push it. Not yet.

That night, I can’t sleep.
She’s lying next to me in the safehouse bed, her back warm against my chest, her breath soft and even. But I can’t stop thinking about the name on that paper. About Cassian’s voice when he told me in Milan: “Every empire needs a sacrifice.”
Not her.
Not Isabella.
I’d sooner burn the Syndicate to ash.

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Cassian POV
Milan Penthouse

I lean back, my shirt open, the cool leather of the sofa against my skin. The city sprawls out beneath me, a sea of lights and shadows, as endless as my desires. She's on her knees, her dark hair a cascade of silk, her lips a vivid slash of crimson. She's not a lover. She's a moment, a fleeting distraction from the empire I rule with an iron fist.

"Slower," I command, my voice a low growl that sends a shiver down her spine. She obeys, her mouth moving with a languid grace, her tongue tracing teasing patterns along my hardening length. My hand tangles in her hair, guiding her movements, controlling her with a lazy dominance that makes her breath hitch.

I watch her, my amber eyes cold and detached, even as my breath thickens. I don't make love. I take. I claim. I conquer. And right now, I'm conquering her. Every moan that escapes her lips, every shudder that wracks her body, is a testament to my power.

My other hand closes around a glass of whiskey, the ice clinking as I take a sip, my gaze never leaving her. "That's it," I murmur, my voice like gravel, "just like that." Her eyes flick up to meet mine, wide and dark, full of fear and arousal and a desperate need to please.

I feel my control slipping, my restraint fraying at the edges. I tighten my grip on her hair, forcing her to hold still as I thrust into her mouth, my growls filling the room. When I come, it's with a low, guttural moan, my body shuddering with the force of my release.

I lean forward, my thumb smearing the crimson of her lipstick. "Pretty little things don't ask questions," I whisper, my voice dark and intoxicating. She shivers, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and I can't help but smile.

I pull her up, my hands rough and demanding as I strip her of her clothes. She's naked beneath me, her skin pale and perfect, her body trembling with anticipation. I run my hands over her curves, my fingers tracing the lines of her body, exploring every inch of her.

"You're mine," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she whispers, her voice trembling.

I smile, my fingers slipping between her thighs. She's wet, her pussy slick and ready for me. I tease her, my fingers sliding through her wetness, circling her clit, making her squirm and gasp beneath me.

"You want me to fuck you?" I ask, my voice low and dangerous.

She nods, her eyes wide and desperate.

I smile, my fingers slipping inside her, filling her, stretching her. She gasps, her body arching off the sofa, her nails digging into my arms. I thrust my fingers into her, hard and deep, making her moan and writhe beneath me.

"You like that?" I growl, my voice thick with desire.

She nods, her eyes wide and desperate.

I smile, my fingers slipping out of her, my hand cupping her pussy, my thumb circling her clit. She gasps, her body trembling, her eyes wide and desperate. I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear.

"You want to cum?" I ask, my voice low and dangerous.

She nods, her eyes wide and desperate.

I smile, my thumb circling her clit, my fingers slipping back inside her, filling her, stretching her. She moans, her body arching off the sofa, her nails digging into my arms. I thrust my fingers into her, hard and deep, making her moan and writhe beneath me.

"Cum for me," I growl, my voice thick with desire.

She cries out, her body shuddering, her pussy clenching around my fingers as she cums hard, squirting all over my hand.

I smile, my fingers slipping out of her, my hand cupping her pussy, my thumb circling her clit.

"You're mine," I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

She nods, her eyes wide and desperate.

I smile, my hand slipping away from her pussy, my fingers trailing up her body, my lips brushing against hers.

"Good girl," I whisper, my voice thick with desire.

I dismiss her with a flick of my fingers, already reaching for the phone on the table.

I dial a number—one of my lieutenants.

“Valeri has the message?” I ask.

“Yes, boss,” comes the reply.

“Good. Make sure he knows the clock’s ticking. If he hesitates, I’ll handle it myself.”

I hang up, pouring another drink, already thinking about how to make Dante bend or break.

\=======================

Dante POV

By morning, my decision is made.
I’m not following Cassian’s order.
But I can’t tell Isabella—not yet.

She wakes to find me shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed, cleaning my gun.

Her hand brushes my shoulder, fingers soft against the scar that runs like lightning down my back.
“You didn’t sleep,” she says quietly.
“I don’t need to,” I mutter.
“Liar.”
I glance back at her. Her hair’s a tangled halo, her bare legs tangled in the sheets.

I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her Cassian’s name is on a list I’ll burn to the ground. But all I say is, “We move tonight.”

Marco’s already on edge. “The Syndicate’s watching every step we take. We can’t just vanish.”
“We can,” I say. “But we’ll need to pay in blood.”
Isabella’s eyes meet mine. “Whose blood?”
I don’t answer.

By evening, a courier arrives with another note, this time not from Cassian.
It’s Selene.
Your move, darling. Milan isn’t big enough for both of us.
Beneath the words is a photo. Of Aria.

And she’s not alone.

She’s standing in Isabella’s club.

“Selene’s in Milan,” I growl, crumpling the photo.

Isabella’s breath catches. “She’s coming for my home.”

“No,” I say, loading my gun. “She’s daring us to come to her.”

Outside, tires screech—unfamiliar engines.

Marco curses. “We’ve got company!”

I grab Isabella’s arm, pulling her behind me as the windows explode inward—

And Cassian’s men step through, guns raised.