Chapter 21 Why He Can't Touch Her
"The engagement is back on."
Carlo's words fell into the war room like a bomb, and Elena—eavesdropping from the hallway of the new secure facility Dante had moved her to—felt her world tilt sideways. She pressed closer to the crack in the door, her healing shoulder protesting the movement.
"Excuse me?" Dante's voice was dangerously quiet.
"The Moretti alliance. Isabella's father has agreed to resurrect the engagement in exchange for joint action against the Russians. It's the deal we need, Dante. The one that ends this war and secures your position." Carlo's tone was apologetic but firm. "The one that keeps Elena alive by making her irrelevant to your enemies."
"No." The word was absolute.
"Boss, listen—"
"I said no. The engagement with Isabella is dead. Has been since I brought Elena into my life."
"For Elena's survival?" Carlo interrupted. "Because that's what this is about. You marry Isabella, the Morettis stop hunting Elena. The attacks stop. She gets to live without a target on her back."
Elena's hands clenched against the doorframe. They were discussing her life, her future, like she was a chess piece instead of a person.
"There has to be another way," Dante said, but Elena heard the doubt creeping into his voice.
"There isn't. We've explored every option. This is it—you marry Isabella, secure the alliance, and Elena gets to disappear into a normal life somewhere far from this world. She gets what she wanted before you took her. Freedom."
"She doesn't want that anymore."
"Are you sure? Or is that what you're telling yourself because the alternative means letting her go?"
Silence stretched, and Elena held her breath, waiting for Dante's answer. Needing to hear him deny it.
But the denial didn't come.
Instead: "How long do I have to decide?"
Elena's heart cracked.
"The Morettis want an answer within forty-eight hours. After that, the offer expires." Carlo's footsteps moved toward the door. "I know this isn't what you want, boss. But sometimes love means making the choice that keeps someone alive, even if it means losing them."
The door opened, and Carlo stopped short when he saw Elena standing in the hallway, her face pale, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Miss Hayes. I didn't realize—"
"That I'd be listening to you plan my future without me?" Elena's voice was steady despite the tremor in her hands. "That I'd overhear the man who claims to love me considering an engagement to someone else?"
Carlo had the grace to look uncomfortable. "It's not like that. We're trying to protect—"
"Don't." Elena pushed past him into the war room. "Don't tell me this is for my protection. Don't make this noble."
Dante stood by the window, his back to her, every line of his body radiating tension. He didn't turn around. Didn't look at her. And that cowardice made Elena's fury burn hotter.
"Look at me," she demanded.
"Elena, you shouldn't be out of bed. Your shoulder—"
"Fuck my shoulder." She moved around him, forcing him to face her. "Look at me and tell me you're actually considering this. Tell me that after everything—after the kidnapping and the obsession and the declarations of love—you're thinking about marrying Isabella to make me irrelevant."
"It's not about making you irrelevant." Dante's jaw clenched. "It's about keeping you alive."
"By pretending I don't matter to you? By marrying someone else and expecting me to what—disappear? Find a nice normal life?" Elena's laugh was sharp. "Did you forget the part where I love you? Where I chose this life, this violence, because I wanted you?"
"I didn't forget. But I also can't forget the sound of that bullet hitting you. Can't forget that every day you're tied to me, you're in danger. The Morettis, the Russians, Isabella—they'll never stop coming as long as you're my weakness."
"So you make me not your weakness. You marry someone else and—what? I'm supposed to just accept it?"
"Yes." The word was torn from him. "Yes, Elena. You move on. You live. You get the normal life you should have had before I destroyed it."
"I don't want normal! I want you, you idiot!" She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. "I want the violence and the obsession and the man who can't let me go even when logic says he should."
"You don't get to choose." Dante's hands covered hers, but he didn't pull them away. "This isn't about what we want. It's about survival. Yours. And if marrying Isabella means you get to live—really live—then that's what I'll do."
"That's not love. That's cowardice. You're choosing the easy way out—the strategic way—while pretending you're being noble."
"There is no us to fight for if you're dead!"
"Then maybe I'd rather die as yours than live knowing you belong to someone else!" The confession ripped from somewhere deep. "Maybe I'd rather take my chances with bullets than spend the rest of my life watching you with her."
Dante's composure cracked. His hands framed her face, and the anguish in his eyes nearly broke her. "Don't say that. Don't ever say you'd rather die. I can't—Cristo, Elena, I can't lose you. Not to violence. Not to anything."
"Then don't marry her." Elena pressed closer, desperate. "Find another way. Fight harder. Wage your war and keep me locked in a thousand safe houses if you have to, but don't give up on us because it's strategically sound."
"It's not easier." His thumb brushed away her tears. "It's the hardest thing I've ever considered. But Elena—I've watched everyone I've ever cared about die. My mother. My father. Men I considered brothers. I can't bury you too. I won't survive it."
"So you'll bury us instead? You'll kill what we have so you don't have to risk losing me?"
"Maybe. But it's one where you're still breathing."
"Breathing isn't living." She placed her hand over his heart. "And you know it. You spent fifteen years breathing without living. You built an empire and told yourself it was enough. But it wasn't. Not until me. So don't go back to that."
Dante's hands tightened on her face, and for a moment, Elena thought she'd won. Thought he'd kiss her, choose her, tell Carlo the engagement was permanently dead.
But then he stepped back, and the distance between them felt like miles.
"I need time," he said quietly. "Time to think. To figure out if there's another way. But Elena—I need you to understand something. If I choose the engagement, if I marry Isabella, it's not because I don't love you. It's because I love you too much to watch you die for me."
"That's not your choice to make!"
"Yes, it is." His voice hardened. "You're in my world now. Under my protection. And that means I make the calls about your safety, whether you like them or not."
"So I'm back to being your prisoner. Not your partner. Just another asset to manage."
"If that's what keeps you alive? Yes." Dante moved toward the door. "I'm sorry, Elena. But I'd rather have you hate me and breathing than love me and dead."
He left, and Elena stood alone in the war room, fury and heartbreak warring in her chest. Through the window, she could see the city sprawling below—the same city that had brought her to Dante's attention. That had made her a target.
And now he was willing to sacrifice what they had to keep her safe. To marry someone else and make her irrelevant.
Noble. Strategic. Absolutely devastating.
Carlo appeared in the doorway. "He's trying to do the right thing."
"The right thing would be fighting for us." Elena didn't turn around. "Not marrying someone else."
"In this world, sometimes there is no right thing. Just varying degrees of wrong." Carlo moved to stand beside her. "For what it's worth, I think he's making a mistake."
"So what will you do?"
Elena turned to face Carlo, and something hard settled in her chest. "I'm going to prove him wrong. I'm going to show him that strategic marriages aren't the only options. That I'm stronger than he thinks."
"That sounds like you're planning something dangerous."
"I learned from the best." Elena's smile was sharp. "Dante taught me possession cuts both ways. That obsession isn't exclusive to kidnappers. So if he thinks he can just marry someone else for my own good—he's about to discover I'm just as ruthless when it comes to fighting for what's mine."
"Miss Hayes—"
"Tell me, Carlo. Does this facility have communication capabilities?"
"Yes, but it's monitored. Dante reviews all outgoing communications."
"Perfect. Then he'll see exactly what I'm planning."
She left Carlo in the war room and headed back to her room, her mind racing.
Dante thought marrying Isabella would make Elena irrelevant.
But what if Elena made herself more important? What if she proved she wasn't just Dante's weakness but his strength?
Dangerous thinking. The kind that could get her killed.
But Elena had crossed too many lines already to stop at this one.
She sat at the computer, knowing Dante would see every word. Knowing he'd try to stop her.
But also knowing she couldn't just wait for him to sacrifice their relationship.
Elena began to type.
And the message that formed was equal parts declaration and challenge.
She hit send before she could second-guess.
The war was coming.
And Elena Hayes—former captive, current obsession—had just declared herself a combatant.
Not on Dante's behalf.
On hers.