30. Cassie
CASSIE
T hey’re coming for him.
The words slam into the room like a grenade.
I bolt upright in bed, sheets tangling around my legs, heart kicking against my ribs.
“Who?” My voice is raw, panic already closing in like a noose. “Gino’s family? His brothers?”
But Dante’s already moving—half-dressed, shoving his legs into black jeans, yanking a shirt over that scarred, furious chest.
He tosses my clothes onto the bed. His jaw’s tight, his eyes darker than a thunderstorm.
“Get dressed, Cass. We’ve got to get you out.”
Tina shuts the door behind her, making us pause.
“No,” she says. “You’ve got it wrong. It’s not Gino.”
Dante and I both freeze.
“It’s worse,” she whispers, looking at her brother. “Our father called.”
The room tilts.
“Our—your dad?” I breathe.
“Yeah.” Tina nods, her expression cracked. “He called from Russia and explained everything.” Her voice splinters. “The family wants Dante back… wants him leading.”
I stare at her, my lungs barely pulling air, every warning I’ve ignored crashing in like a tidal wave.
Tina lets out a bitter, shaky laugh, swiping angrily at her face. “Guess I’ve been the only idiot living in denial. Father was impatient. Called me a fool. Said I’ve spent my life blind.”
For the first time, I see it—the hurt, the betrayal under her bravado.
Her jaw tightens as she pushes through the words. “So yeah,” she finishes, raw and hollow. “Turns out we were born into the damn mafia.”
Dante’s face hardens, his stare glued to hers, but she barrels on.
“So yeah, the family will be in Chicago tomorrow,” she finishes, voice low. “And they’re not asking for a meeting. You’re expected at noon.”
“Fuck,” Dante whispers, eyes reaching for me.
I know what he’s thinking. He’s got a kid under his roof.
I stare between Dante and Tina, my stomach twisting, the walls closing in.
They want him to lead. They want him to drown in this life, buried in it, just like his father.
The peace we thought we had? The quiet? The stolen moments in this house?
A fucking lie.
“They won’t let him disappear again,” Tina adds, reading my face, stepping closer. “Apparently, Dante’s made some enemies around here.”
I shove a hand through my hair, bile scraping the back of my throat.
“There’s an out,” Tina says quietly now, her tone shifting. “There’s always an out.”
I look at her, heartbeat crashing through my chest.
“Fake a death,” she offers. “You and Aria can go off-grid with new names and a new life. They’ll never connect you to us.”
Beside me, Dante stiffens. I brace myself for him to tell Tina to get a better idea. To get her head out of the clouds. What he says next floors me.
“That’s… not a bad idea,” Dante whispers, staring at me. “If people find out you both mean something to me, are family, you’ll spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders.”
The words gutted him. I can see it in his eyes, the quiet war behind his walls.
I stare at him, see every ounce of pain, every protective instinct—and still, somehow, I breathe.
The idea wraps around my throat, squeezing tight.
Old me would’ve jumped at the chance. The girl who hid behind lies, who thought running was survival.
But I’m not her anymore.
I turn, eyes locking on the man beside me—the man who’s wrecked me, saved me, destroyed every illusion, and still kept me breathing.
Dante’s not Gino.
And I’m done fucking running.
I push the sheets off, legs shaky, but my voice? Solid.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Tina’s brow arches. “Cass?—”
“He’s not leaving her,” I say, fire cracking behind every word. “Or me.”
I feel it—the fear breaking loose, the fight rising instead.
I turn to Dante, voice steady, stare locked on his, daring him to doubt me.
“I’m not scared anymore.” My breath shudders, but I stand tall. “Not of you. Not of them. Not of the Bratva.”
Dante rises slowly, dangerously, that signature burn in his eyes—but this time it’s different.
This time it’s pride.
“Then marry me,” he says, voice low and final, a hand curling around my wrist, pulling me flush to him. “Marry me—and let them fucking try to take us.”