Chapter Fourty-Two: Enemy's Touch
The silence between them lasted all through the evening. Isabella barely spoke after dinner, choosing instead to sit by the window while Dante flipped through papers at his desk. Every now and then, she caught him watching her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of turning around.
Finally, she stood. “I’m going to bed.”
“Without saying goodnight?” Dante asked, not looking up from the papers.
"Goodnight," she said quickly, dragging the blanket back and rolling onto her side.
He snorted softly. "Cold as ever."
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to stifle the warmth in her chest.
\---
The mansion settled into quiet well into the night. Shift changes occurred, the occasional footsteps echoed remotely through the corridors, and the soft hum of the night lamps offered the only sound. Isabella hovered between sleep and wakefulness, her body twitching.
She pretended it was a dream at first—some quiet sound, like a swatch of material rubbing against the floor. But it came again, and louder this time. A shuffle. A creak.
Her eyes sprang open.
The room was dark, the curtains closed, but she could see a dark figure moving near the wardrobe.
Isabella slowly sat up. "Dante?" she whispered in case he was not yet asleep.
The figure halted.
Then a gentle woman's voice whispered, "Shh."
Before Isabella could scream, the intruder stepped into the faint light of the hallway—one of the maids, knife shining silver.
Isabella's breath froze. "What are you doing in here?"
The maid snarled cruelly. "Adrian wants you alive. But if you open your mouth, I'll kill you first before he gets a chance."
Her hand shook, but Isabella flung herself out of bed anyway. "You're insane. You'll never leave this room alive."
The maid cocked her head. "I don't have to. I just have to bring you."
\---
For one fleeting moment, Isabella's mind shouted at her to flee, to scream for Dante, for someone. But another voice within hushed: If you scream, she'll kill you before help arrives.
Her fists curled. She recalled what her father taught her when she was young—Don't freeze. Move.
As the maid approached, Isabella struck. She had both hands around the woman's wrist and jammed the blade up.
The maid cursed as she tried to wriggle free, but Isabella kicked her shin sharply and the woman stumbled back.
"You little—," the maid growled, slashing wildly.
The blade clipped Isabella's arm, and she jumped back with a flinch, but she didn't stop. She barged the woman into the wardrobe, thrusting her shoulder into the woman's chest.
The fight was ragged, desperate, breathing loud and harsh. Isabella grasped for her wrist, almost causing her to lose the blade. For an instant, she had the advantage.
"Hold still!" the maid spat, attempting to knee her.
"Get to hell!" Isabella screamed, at last striking her elbow into the maid's jaw.
The woman stumbled back, but before Isabella could tear the knife away, the door slammed open.
Dante charged in, gun already raised. His eyes darted around the room—the knife, Isabella's crimson-stained arm, the maid's white-knuckled grasp.
No time to think.
One bullet.
The maid's body convulsed, her bulging eyes fixed on something beyond. She crumpled onto the floor, blood spreading beneath her. The knife dropped next to her hand.
Isabella was frozen in place, her chest heaving. Her arms still shook, still raised in protection.
Dante walked two paces across the room and took her by the shoulders. His voice was a rasp, hovering on the brink of a growl. "Are you hurt?"
"I—" She looked down at the shallow cut on her arm. "It's nothing. I'm all right."
He erupted into anger, his eyes blazing, and turned, kicking the maid's body to make certain she was dead. Then he pulled Isabella into his chest, his arms clamping hard around her.
"Do you see now?" His voice was harsh against her hair. "Without me, you're already dead."
She shuddered in his hold. "I battled her. I almost won—"
"Almost," he cut in harshly. "Almost means you'd already be dying if I hadn't shown up."
Isabella fought against his chest. "Stop talking to me as if I'm delicate. I wasn't just standing there—"
"You think I care?" Dante snarled, clutching her tighter. "She touched you. She reached you. That's already too much."
Her eyes ached, anger and terror mingling. "So what, am I supposed to just sit here and wait around for you to come rescue me every time?"
"Yes," he replied gruffly, his grip unyielding. "That is exactly what you will do. Because you belong to me, Isabella, and no one touches what's mine."
Her mouth opened, her heart pounding against his chest. His words should have made her furious, but they were lost amidst the primal relief that she was not dead on the floor like the maid.
\---
Minutes passed, the sound of rushing feet in the hallway beyond. Dante bellowed commands through the door, his men carrying the corpse away and checking the entire floor.
Isabella perched on the edge of the bed while Giulia bound up her arm.
"You're lucky," Giulia breathed. "That cut could have been worse."
"She would have killed me," Isabella breathed, staring down at the blood still crusting her hands.
Giulia gave her a fierce look. "But you defended yourself. Don't forget that."
Dante, looming nearby, snarled, "She won nothing. If I had been two minutes later—
“Enough,” Giulia cut in firmly. “She’s shaken. Not dead. That’s what matters.”
Dante didn’t reply, but his jaw stayed tight.
When Giulia left, the room fell into heavy silence again.
Isabella finally looked up at him. “You killed her right in front of me.”
“I’d do it again.” His eyes locked onto hers, fierce and unyielding. “And I’ll kill anyone else who tries to touch you.”
She shivered, hugging her knees. "That does not scare you? That your enemies find means into this house every time?"
"It does not scare me," Dante replied, kneeling before her. "It makes me angry. And that anger keeps me alive. Keeps you alive."
Her throat closed. "I don't want to be kept alive by you."
His fingers caressed her cheek, surprisingly gentle. "But you are."
Her breath caught as his lips hovered close to hers, the scent of smoke and steel clinging to him. For a heartbeat, she thought she’d let him kiss her.
But she turned her face at the last second, whispering, “Don’t.”
Dante’s jaw flexed, but a dark smile tugged at his lips. “You’ll see, Isabella. You’ll see soon enough.”
\---