13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dante
The safe house was too quiet. Dante stood in the doorway of the living room, watching Alina sleep on the couch—curled under a blanket, her breathing soft and steady. She looked peaceful. He was anything but.
His shirt was still damp from the docks. His knuckles were bruised. His arm throbbed where a bullet had grazed him. But none of that mattered. What mattered was the whiteboard he’d found: her name circled in red. A target.
He’d seen plenty of names on hit lists. He’d even written a few himself. But seeing hers? That had done something to him he couldn’t undo.
Luca’s voice crackled through the comms unit on the table. “Boss. You need to hear this.”
Dante stepped into the kitchen and answered quietly. “Talk.”
“We intercepted a Vescari transmission. They’re planning a sweep tonight.”
“Where?”
“Every safe house they think you might use.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “Do they know this location?”
“No. But they’re close. Too close.”
Dante looked back at Alina—asleep, unaware, vulnerable. He lowered his voice. “What else?”
Luca hesitated. “They’re not looking for the drive anymore.”
Dante froze. “Then what are they looking for?”
His stomach dropped. “Her.”
“Yeah.”
Dante’s eyes shut; the confirmation landed like a blade twisting in a fresh wound. He’d seen the red circle around her name and felt the dread coiling in his gut, but hearing Luca say it aloud made it lethal. They weren’t coming for his empire. They were coming for her.
“Prep the team,” Dante said. “We move in thirty.”
Dante spread the maps across the kitchen table—docks, warehouses, Vescari-owned businesses, safe houses, escape paths.
He’d planned a dozen campaigns on tables just like this, moving markers that represented territory and profit.
But his eyes kept drifting toward the living room.
Every red line on the map felt like a threat aimed directly at her.
This wasn’t about assets anymore; it was about survival.
Luca arrived through the back entrance with two men in tow. “We’ve got intel.”
Dante didn’t look up. “Tell me.”
“The Vescari are consolidating at the north warehouse. They’re expecting retaliation.”
“They’ll get it.”
Luca set a folder on the table. “There’s more.”
Dante opened it. Surveillance stills. A grainy image of Alina leaving the hospital two days ago. His blood ran cold.
“They’ve been watching her longer than we thought,” Luca said.
Dante’s grip tightened on the photo. “How long?”
“Maybe weeks.”
Weeks. Before the café. Before the airport. Before he even spoke to her. He felt a dark, suffocating weight coil in his chest.
“They marked her,” Dante said quietly.
“And they won’t stop,” Luca added.
Dante looked at the map—the red lines, the black circles, the paths of attack. “We hit them tonight,” he said. “Hard. Fast. No survivors.”
Luca raised a brow. “That’s not a strategy. That’s vengeance.”
“It’s both.”
A soft sound came from the living room. Dante turned. Alina stood in the doorway, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes heavy with sleep but alert enough to know something had shifted.
“Dante?” she whispered.
He stepped toward her. “You should be resting.”
“You’re planning something.”
He didn’t deny it.
She walked closer, her voice trembling. “You’re going after them.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.”
“No,” he said. “Because of what they’ve done.”
She shook her head. “You’re lying.”
He exhaled slowly. “I’m doing this because they won’t stop until you’re gone.”
Her breath caught. “Dante…”
He stepped closer—close enough to feel her warmth, to smell the faint trace of her shampoo, to lose himself if he wasn’t careful. “Seeing your name on that list today…” he said, his voice raw. “I realized how close I came to losing you.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean at the docks?”
“Everywhere. From the first moment at the airport. I’ve been letting this danger circle you, and I won’t allow it anymore.”
The silence that followed was heavy, charged, and unavoidable.
She whispered, “What happens if you don’t come back tonight?”
He cupped her cheek—his thumb resting just below her eye, unmoving, as if trying to memorize the exact warmth of her skin. “I will,” he said.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can,” he said, “because I’m not leaving you alone in this world.”
Her breath trembled. “Dante…”
He leaned in—not to kiss her, not yet, but to rest his forehead against hers. “I almost lost you,” he whispered. “And I won’t let that happen twice.”
Luca cleared his throat from the kitchen doorway. “Boss. It’s time.”
Dante didn’t move. Neither did Alina.
Finally, she whispered, “Come back to me.”
He opened his eyes. “I will,” he said. And for the first time in his life, he meant it with everything he had.
He pulled away, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. The safe house door closed behind them, and Dante stepped into the night—ready to burn the Vescari empire to the ground.