Chapter 17
GENESIS
I sat in the hospital chair, clutching Mia close, her small body curled up against my chest. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room, but all I could focus on was the empty feeling gnawing at my insides. Cecil was gone. Dead. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it, and now Dante was out there, chasing after Chant—after blood. My heart raced as I tried not to imagine the worst, but the fear was thick, weighing on me with every breath I took.
Mia stirred in my arms, and I smoothed her hair back, careful not to wake her. She had no idea what was happening, how close we’d all come to danger. But I did. And as much as I tried to push it down, the fear refused to let go. I couldn’t lose anyone else, not now. Not after everything.
The image of Cecil’s face as he struggled for breath burned in my mind. I still hadn’t processed it all—the loss, the betrayal, the fact that he was the reason this mess started in the first place. It didn’t matter, though. He was still my brother, and even with all his mistakes, I loved him. Now he was gone, and Chant was the reason. He had to be.
I shifted Mia in my arms, the weight of my exhaustion pulling at me, but sleep wasn’t an option. Not while Dante was out there. He’d told me to stay here, to wait. But how could I sit back when he was out there putting his life on the line for us? For me?
Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was his face—strong, determined, ready to do whatever it took to end this nightmare. I hated the violence, the danger, but I couldn’t deny the fire in his eyes when he talked about protecting us. It was the kind of fierceness that made me feel safe, even now when everything felt like it was falling apart.
The door to the waiting room creaked open, and my heart leapt into my throat. My eyes shot up, and there he was—Dante. His face was bruised, his knuckles bloodied, but he was standing. Alive.
I rose to my feet, my legs shaky as Mia’s weight pulled on me, and I held her closer, my eyes searching his. “Dante?” I whispered, my voice barely steady.
He crossed the room in a few long strides, his arms coming around both of us. The tension in my chest loosened the moment he touched me, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
"It’s over, Genesis. It’s done," he said softly, his voice a low rumble against my ear.
My heart pounded, trying to catch up with the relief washing over me. "Chant?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"He’s gone. He won’t hurt you or anybody else ever again." Dante pulled back slightly to meet my gaze, his eyes fierce, the truth in them undeniable.
I let out a shaky breath, burying my face in his chest. “Thank God,” I whispered, clinging to him. The relief was almost too much to process all at once, and my body trembled with it.
But as I held him, the weight of everything came crashing down on me. Cecil was dead, Chant was gone, but the scars of it all were still there. I couldn’t help but feel the heavy pull of guilt. Dante had risked everything to protect us.
“What about you?” I asked, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “Are you okay?”
His thumb brushed against my cheek, the touch gentle despite the battle he’d just been through. “I’m here, and that’s what matters,” he said, his eyes softening.
I didn’t miss the flicker of something darker in his gaze, but I didn’t press him. Not now. He was here, and for tonight, that was enough.
As Dante held me close, his body warm and solid against mine, a soft rustling sound came from behind us. I turned to see Mimi stirring, her eyelids fluttering open. She looked weaker than usual, but her eyes, still sharp and knowing, landed on Dante first.
“Dante… bambino,” she said softly, her voice raspy but laced with affection. She smiled weakly, motioning for him to come closer.
Dante straightened, carefully lowering Mia back onto the couch. His hand lingered on my back before he stepped toward Mimi’s bedside. There was something in the way he moved, almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to disturb her, but his eyes never left hers. The contrast between them was night and day. Though his grandmother was Italian, her husband had been African American. Despite the fact that Dante’s father was also Italian, he was a rich brown that dimmed his Italian roots that simmered in his bed to a minimum. You couldn’t tell the two of them that, though. That was his grandmother and he loved her with his whole heart. No matter what anybody said, she was his person.
“Mimi, you should rest,” Dante murmured, his voice a deep, comforting rumble as he took her frail hand in his.
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I’ve rested enough. I’m not going anywhere just yet, boy. Sit with me.”
Dante sank into the chair beside her bed, and I stayed back, watching the way Mimi’s gaze softened as she looked at him. The love she had for him was unmistakable, and it tugged at something deep inside me.
“Is it done?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.
Dante nodded, his jaw tight. “It’s done. Chant won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”
Mimi’s lips curled into a small smile. “Good. How are you feeling?” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I heard all the guards out in front of my door talking about a man who was also hurt? Cecil may have been his name.”
Dante’s expression darkened, and I could see the weight of everything he’d been carrying. “He’s gone, Mimi. He didn’t make it. Cecil is Genesis’ brother.”
Mimi’s eyes glistened, but she didn’t say anything right away. After a long pause, she squeezed Dante’s hand. “I’m sorry. But I know you did what you had to. You always do.” Her voice wavered slightly, but there was pride in it, too.
Dante swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It doesn’t feel like enough, though.”
Mimi’s hand reached up to cup his cheek, the gesture tender despite her frailty. “You saved the ones you could. That’s all anyone can ask.” She glanced toward me, her eyes warm as they settled on Mia, who was still fast asleep. “And you saved them. That’s what matters now.”
I stepped forward, feeling the weight of her words settle over the room. Dante looked up at me, something unspoken passing between us before he turned back to Mimi.
“I couldn’t have done it without her,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s… she’s changed everything.”
Mimi smiled again, her eyes twinkling despite her exhaustion. “I can see that. She’s good for you, Dante. And you’re good for her.” She paused, her gaze flicking back to me. “Genesis, come here, sweetheart.”
I hesitated for a moment before walking over to the other side of the bed, sitting on the edge. Mimi took my hand in hers, her grip surprisingly firm. “You’re part of this family now. You and Mia.” Her eyes softened as she glanced at Mia again. “She’s a beautiful little girl. You’re a good mother.”
I felt a lump form in my throat as I nodded, unable to find the words.
Mimi’s gaze turned back to Dante, and she smiled, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You take care of this one. She’s special.”
“I know,” Dante replied quietly, his voice filled with conviction.
Mimi’s eyes fluttered closed again, but not before she gave one last squeeze to Dante’s hand. “I’m proud of you, Dante. Don’t ever forget that. Genesis, don't forget to tell him about that baby.”
She drifted off to sleep then, leaving a heavy silence in the room. Dante sat there for a moment longer, staring down at her, before he rose from the chair and turned to me.
“She’s right, you know,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto mine. “You are special.”
I couldn’t help but smile, even through the grief and exhaustion. “And so are you.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as Mimi’s words echoed in my ears. Dante’s eyes were on me, searching, waiting. The room seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker. I bit my lip, glancing down at Mia, her tiny body curled up peacefully.
“Now, what baby is she talking about?” Dante’s voice was low, cautious, but I could hear the underlying tension in it.
My mouth went dry, and I forced myself to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—hope, fear, maybe both. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
“I—I haven’t told you yet.” My voice came out shaky, but I pushed through. “I just… found out. I wasn’t sure how to say it. I took a test while I was waiting for you to get back.”
Dante’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Genesis… you’re pregnant?”
I nodded, feeling a rush of emotions—fear, excitement, uncertainty—all crashing together. “Yes. I am.”
For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at me, his jaw tightening. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re carrying my child.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, filled with awe and a quiet, fierce pride that made my chest tighten.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I am. But before you get excited, I don’t know how far along I am. That could mean…”
Dante kissed me, officially shutting me up. I guess he didn’t care about the rest. Because regardless, he was going to be. We’d figure out the specifics later. If my calculations were right, he was definitely the father. Until we knew for sure, I still wouldn’t rain on his parade. If he said that baby was his, it damn sure was.