Chapter 25
DANTE
Iknew something was wrong the moment Alexei's tracker went offline.
One second, the GPS signal showed them moving along the planned route to the safe house. The next, static. Complete radio silence in an area that should have perfect coverage.
I tried calling, but of course, it went straight to voicemail. He would never bounce my call especially knowing the way I felt about Hannah.
I was in the SUV and speeding toward their last known location before my security team could finish their status report. Every instinct I've honed over decades in this life screamed that Hannah was in danger, and instinct has kept me alive when logic would have gotten me killed.
The underpass comes into view, and my blood turns to ice.
Two SUVs crashed and smoking, bodies on the ground, and in the center of it all—Hannah. There’s a gun still clutched in her white-knuckled grip. Alexei is beside her, blood streaming down his face, positioning himself between her and the six armed men surrounding them.
I slam on the brakes hard enough to leave rubber on the pavement, the SUV screeching to a halt at an angle that gives me cover while keeping Hannah in my line of sight. The driver's door is open before the vehicle fully stops.
The man closest to Hannah has his weapon trained on her head.
I saw red. I didn’t hesitate.
I raise my gun and fire before he can pull the trigger.
The shot takes him in the shoulder, spinning him around. Not a kill shot—I need at least one of these bastards alive to tell me who sent them—but enough to drop him and get Hannah out of immediate danger.
The remaining attackers scatter, diving for cover, returning fire. Bullets spark off the concrete around me, but I'm already moving, using the crashed vehicles as cover as I close the distance between me and Hannah with single-minded focus.
I will take a hundred bullets for her.
"Dante!" Alexei's shout carries over the gunfire. He's got Hannah behind him now, using his body as a shield, but he's swaying on his feet. Wounded. Maybe badly.
I drop two more attackers with precision shots—one to the chest, one to the head—years of training and muscle memory taking over.
No hesitation, no remorse. These men tried to kill what's mine.
The third attacker tries to use one of the crashed SUVs as cover, but he's chosen poorly. I come around the side and catch him trying to reload, his hands shaking with adrenaline. One punch to his jaw. He crumples like a puppet with cut strings.
The last man standing—the one I shot first—is on his knees, clutching his shoulder, his weapon on the ground several feet away. I kick it further away and signal to my security team, who've finally caught up and are securing the perimeter.
"Alexei, status," I call out, not taking my eyes off the wounded attacker.
"Bleeding but functional. Hannah—she's okay. Shaken, but okay."
The relief that floods through me is almost painful. I want to go to her immediately, need to put my hands on her and confirm for myself that she's alive and whole. But first, I need answers.
I grab the wounded man by his collar and haul him upright, ignoring his cry of pain. "Who sent you?"
He spits blood at my feet. "Go to hell."
I press my thumb into his gunshot wound, and his defiance turns into a scream.
"Who. Sent. You."
"Dante, wait—" Alexei appears beside me, limping, one hand pressed to his ribs. "I know him. That's Ivan Petrov. He works for—"
"Bogdan," Ivan gasps out, the name torn from him by pain. "Bogdan sent us. Said to make it look like a random attack, said the Bratva would be better off without you and your distractions."
The words confirm what I've been suspecting, but hearing it still feels like a betrayal carved into my chest. My own cousin. My own blood.
"Who else?" I demand. "Who else is involved?"
"Your uncle." Ivan's laugh is bitter. "Radimir sanctioned it. Said you'd gone soft, said the elders would thank us for cleaning up the family's problems."
Radimir. Of course. This was never just about Richard Quinn's supposed theft. This was about power, about removing me and installing someone more... compliant.
"Keep him alive," I tell Alexei. "He's our proof. Get him to the room."
Then I'm moving toward Hannah, who's still standing where Alexei left her, covered in blood that I pray isn't hers. Her green eyes are wide with shock, her face too pale, but she's upright. She's breathing. She's alive.
I reach her and cup her jaw with both hands, tilting her face up to mine. There's a smear of blood on her cheek—someone else's blood, I realize with savage satisfaction—and her hair is tangled with debris from the crash.
She's never looked more beautiful.
"You're mine, Red," I say, my forehead pressed to hers, my voice rough with emotions I can barely contain. "Say it. You will not leave me. Do you understand?"
She tries to not.
“Say it, Red. Say it.”
"I'm yours," she whispers. The surrender in her voice breaks something open inside me.
I kiss her then, deep and claiming, in front of my men and the dying attackers and God himself. Let them all see. Let them all know. This woman is mine, and anyone who tries to take her from me will die screaming.
When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen and her eyes are dazed, but there's something fierce there too. She fought today. Defended herself and our child with the training I gave her.
She's not the frightened captive I brought to my estate weeks ago.
She's a survivor. A fighter.
Mine.
"Secure the scene," I order my men without looking away from Hannah.
"I want this cleaned up in the next hour.
No trace, no witnesses except Ivan. And get Alexei medical attention—carefully.
I want him checked at a private facility, no hospitals.
This needs to look like a job completed.
No one knows Hannah walked away from this. I want to be the one to inform them."
"Boss, the other escort vehicle—" one of my men starts.
"Handle it. Now."
They scatter to follow orders. Within minutes, the underpass is swarming with people who know how to make violence disappear.
I guide Hannah to my SUV, keeping one hand on her at all times. She's shaking now, the adrenaline wearing off, shock setting in. I need to get her home. Somewhere I can verify that she and the baby are truly unharmed.
Alexei appears as I'm helping Hannah into the backseat, his face gray beneath the blood. "Boss, I need to—"
"You need medical attention," I interrupt. "Andre will take you. Call me when you're clear."
He nods, swaying slightly. "I'm sorry. I should have seen it coming."
"You kept her alive. That's all that matters."
After he's gone, I slide into the backseat beside Hannah and pull her against me. She comes without resistance, curling into my side like she belongs there. Like she's always belonged there.
The ride back to the estate is silent except for the hum of the engine and Hannah's ragged breathing as she fights to calm herself. I keep her hand locked in mine, my thumb tracing patterns on her wrist where her pulse beats too fast.
No music. No questions. Only silence.
"Dante," she finally whispers. "Your cousin—"
"Don't." I press my lips to her hair. "Not now. Right now, you're safe. That's all that matters."
"But—"
"Hannah." I lift her chin, making her look at me. "They came after what's mine. My cousin, my uncle, everyone involved in this—they tried to take you from me."
"What are you going to do?"
The question hangs in the air between us. She knows what I am, what I'm capable of. She's seen the violence firsthand now. She has blood on her hands from defending herself.
She's asking if she can live with what comes next.
"I'm going to burn their whole world down," I say quietly. "Everyone who touched you, everyone who threatened our child, everyone who thought they could use you against me—they're all going to pay."
I expect her to flinch or to pull away. I wait for her to remind me that she doesn't want this life. Instead, she nods slowly and snuggles closer.
"Good," she says, and the steel in her voice surprises me. "They tried to kill our baby."
Our baby. The first time she's said it out loud, acknowledging the life we created together. The life she fought to protect today.
"Nothing is going to hurt you or our child," I promise. "Not Bogdan, not Radimir, not anyone. I'll tear down the entire organization if that's what it takes to keep you safe."
"I know." She leans her head against my shoulder, exhausted. "I'm sorry I tried to leave."
"Don't apologize." I tighten my arms around her. "You were right. About the cage, about the control. I was so afraid of losing you that I was suffocating us both."
"And now?"
"Now I'm going to protect you the right way. By eliminating the threats, not by locking you away from them."
She's quiet for a long time. "That's going to mean war, isn't it? With your family."
"Yes."
"Can we win?"
I think about the proof we have. Ivan's confession, the coordination of the attack and the pattern of evidence against Richard Quinn that now makes terrible sense.
Bogdan has been playing a long game, setting up Richard as a fall guy while positioning himself to take my place with Radimir's backing.
I trusted him. I loved him.
And he fucked me over.
But they made one crucial mistake: they underestimated how far I'd go to protect what's mine.
"We already have," I tell Hannah. "They just don't know it yet."
And I swear to God I’m going to make them regret their betrayal.
But first, I need to make sure Hannah and our child are truly safe. And then, once I know they're okay, I'm going to do what I should have done weeks ago.
I'm going to end this threat permanently.
Because they came after mine. And in my world, that's a death sentence.