53. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Dante
The drive back to the ranger station should have felt like a triumph.
They had decimated the Vescari communication hub, escaped without a single casualty, and landed the first definitive blow of the war.
Yet, as the trees blurred past, dark and suffocating, Alina could not shake the prickle of dread crawling up her spine.
Dante noticed the shift in her demeanor immediately. “You’re quiet,” he murmured.
She stared out at the encroaching shadows. “Something’s coming.”
He didn't dismiss her; he didn't tell her she was imagining things. He simply nodded once, his jaw tight. “I feel it, too.”
They reached the ranger station just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
The team moved with practiced efficiency: Luca and Rico unloaded the gear, Elena swept the perimeter, and Marco set up his laptop to monitor the scramble of Vescari chatter.
Dante walked inside with Alina at his side, but the moment he crossed the threshold, he froze.
The air felt wrong. The room felt violated.
“Dante…” Alina breathed.
He held up a hand, scanning the room. Nothing was broken, and nothing was missing, yet the silence felt heavy with intent. Then, he saw it. A single envelope was pinned to the exterior of the door with a knife. It was unmarked and unsealed, waiting like a coiled viper.
Dante approached it slowly, his hand hovering near his weapon. Alina stayed close, her hand brushing the small of his back—a tether of stability. He opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED AT THE CABIN.
Alina’s breath hitched. “They found us.”
“No,” Dante countered, his voice like grinding stone. “Someone told them. The traitor.”
He flipped the paper over. A second line was scrawled on the back: SHE WON’T SURVIVE THE NEXT ONE.
The world tilted on its axis. Dante went deathly still—the kind of stillness that precedes a hurricane. He crushed the paper in his fist, the heat of his rage radiating off him. Someone had breached their perimeter. Someone had left a death threat aimed directly at Alina.
Alina touched his arm, grounding him. “Dante—”
He turned, his eyes dark and burning. “I’m not losing you.”
“I know.”
He stepped into her personal space, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “This wasn’t the Vescari. They don’t play games like this. This is personal.”
“The traitor,” she confirmed.
Luca burst into the room, his face pale. “Boss, we’ve got a problem. Someone was watching us. Fresh tracks in the woods.”
Elena followed, her jaw set. “Whoever it was, they were trained. They knew how to disappear.”
Dante held up the crumpled note. As the team read it, the room plunged into an icy, suffocating silence.
“We move tonight,” Dante announced, unfolding the maps once more. “We can’t stay here. If the traitor knows this location, the Vescari will know soon enough.”
“Where do we go?” Luca asked.
Dante looked at Alina. A silent understanding passed between them—they had to go somewhere off the grid, a location so obscure that not even their own team knew of its existence. Dante turned to the group. “We’re splitting up.”
The team erupted into protest, but Dante cut them off with a single, sharp gesture. “The traitor is watching us. If we stay together, we are an easy target. If we split, they will follow the larger group.”
Luca exhaled, the realization sinking in. “You’re using us as bait.”
Dante didn’t deny it. “You’ll be safe at the fallback location. And Alina and I will be off the grid.”
“And what about you two?” Elena asked, crossing her arms.
Dante’s voice softened as he looked at Alina. “We’ll be together.”
He turned to her, his gaze intense. “Pack only what you need.”
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was meant for her ears alone. “Somewhere no one knows about.”
“Not even Luca?”
“Not even Luca.”
Dante cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin. “I trust you. I trust no one else.”
He leaned his forehead against hers, a final moment of intimacy before the chaos resumed. “We leave in ten minutes.”
As she retreated to the back room to pack, the hair on her arms stood up.
She felt a presence—a shadow lurking just outside the edges of her vision.
She spun around, but the room was empty.
The traitor wasn't finished. They were close—closer than anyone realized—and the next strike was already in motion.