Chapter 18
Dante
It's been twenty-four hours since we arrived at the safehouse, and Sofia is too quiet, too cooperative with the orders given to her. Her attempts at not being suspicious, not drawing attention to herself, do exactly that.
"Is this really necessary?" Luca rests his boots on the corner of the desk, agitated that I'm making him watch the security cameras during the perimeter soldier change.
"She's up to something."
"Dude, that girl is getting to your head. The only one who has any sense of where we are is Gianna, and she knows better than to tell the others. Sofia's too timid to run blindly into the middle of nowhere."
I shake my head. You don't know her like I do. She's up to something, I know it.
"Fine, whatever." He grumbles, waving me off nonetheless. "I'll watch the cameras. Go check on your princess if it'll make you feel better."
Luca doesn't understand. He's a fine capo—gets the job done—but he's not striving to rise in the ranks anytime soon.
He made capo so young because his older brother was diagnosed with lung cancer, and his family needed to pay the medical bills.
Vito offered a deal: let one brother go home to die, and the other would take his place.
Luca does what's required of him, but that's about it.
I find Elena thumbing through a magazine on the couch while Gianna reads next to her. Tentatively, my eyes jump around the room, but aside from some disinterested soldiers posted outside the back door, the women are alone. "Where's Sofia?"
They set down their reading to give me inquisitive looks. Gianna tosses her book aside. "Isn't it your job to know that?"
Elena giggles before answering. "She's sleeping. She was starting to get a headache, so I gave her some water and told her to rest."
Something about their casual dismissal doesn't sit right with me. Unease settles in my stomach like a lead weight.
"She's been sleeping for three hours," I point out.
"She had a long night," Gianna says smoothly. "You know, plotting world domination and all that."
Elena snorts. "Relax, Dante. We're all trapped here together. Where's she going to go?"
Their easy confidence only makes me more suspicious. I know Sofia, and quiet compliance isn't in her nature. Neither is three-hour naps in the middle of the day.
"I'm going to check on her."
"I wouldn't," Elena calls after me. "She specifically said she didn't want to be disturbed."
Which is exactly why I need to check on her.
I walk down the hall toward the bedrooms, my footsteps quiet on the hardwood. Sofia's door is closed, which should be normal, but somehow feels ominous. I press my ear against it, listening for any sound of movement.
Nothing.
I knock softly. "Sofia?"
Silence.
Every instinct I've developed over fifteen years of working for Vito is screaming at me right now. I try the handle—unlocked. The door swings open to reveal an empty room, the bed still perfectly made from this morning.
"Fuck," I mutter, spinning around and heading back toward the main area. But instead of confronting Elena and Gianna, I take a different route, checking the bathroom, the kitchen, even the utility closet.
She's nowhere to be found.
That's when I notice it—the power flickering slightly, like someone's messing with the electrical system. In a safehouse like this, there are only a few places to access the main breaker.
The basement.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart rate picking up as I move through the dim lower level. Sure enough, I can hear soft footsteps and the metallic sound of someone working with the electrical panel.
I position myself at the bottom of the basement stairs and wait.
Two minutes later, the power goes out completely.
In the darkness, I hear her quiet footsteps as she makes her way toward the stairs. I let her get halfway up before I move, my hand closing around her wrist.
"Going somewhere, princess?"
She gasps, trying to jerk away, but I'm already moving. In one fluid motion, I back her against the basement wall, my body caging her in. The emergency lighting kicks on, casting everything in a dim red glow.
"What part of 'no sneaking out' do you not understand?" I growl, planting one hand on either side of her head against the concrete wall.
Sofia's eyes are wide, but not with the fear I'd expect. There's something else there—defiance, yes, but also an awareness of our position that sends heat shooting through me.
"You—how did you—"
"Know you weren't sleeping?" I lean closer, close enough that I can smell that floral shampoo that's been driving me crazy. "Because unlike Elena and Gianna, I actually know you. You don't take three-hour naps, and you sure as hell don't go quietly when you're planning something."
"I wasn't planning anything," she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
"Right. You just happened to be down here checking the breaker box for fun."
Her chin lifts in that stubborn way I've come to recognize. "Maybe I was trying to fix the lights. Ever think of that?"
"By cutting the power to the entire house?"
"Trial and error."
Despite everything, I almost smile. Even caught red-handed, she's still fighting me. "You're a terrible liar, Sofia."
"And you're a terrible jailer if you're always letting me get this far."
"This far?" I shift closer, and her breath hitches. "You didn't even make it out of the basement."
"Because you were stalking me!"
"Because I was doing my job."
"Your job," she repeats, and there's something bitter in her voice. "Right. Always comes back to that, doesn't it?"
The emergency generator kicks on, and the regular lights flicker back to life, but neither of us moves. We're still pressed together against the wall, her hands flat against my chest, my face inches from hers.
"You want to know what my job is, Sofia?" My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "My job is to keep you safe. To make sure you don't do something that gets you killed."
"And what if I don't want to be kept safe?" Her eyes flash with something dangerous. "What if I'd rather take my chances out there than stay trapped in here with you?"
The words sting more than they should. "With me?"
"Yes, with you." Her hands move from my chest to my shoulders, her fingers digging in slightly. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Being watched every second of every day? Having someone follow you everywhere, know your every move, control your every decision?"
"Is that what you think I'm doing? Controlling you?"
"Aren't you?"
I stare down at her, taking in the flush in her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips are slightly parted. She's beautiful when she's angry. She's beautiful all the time, but especially when she's fighting me.
"If I wanted to control you," I say quietly, "you'd know it."
Something shifts in her expression, and the air between us becomes charged with a different kind of tension. Her hands are still on my shoulders, her body still pressed against the wall by mine, and I can feel the exact moment she becomes aware of how close we are.
"Dante," she whispers, and my name on her lips sounds different than it ever has before.
"Yeah?"
"What are we doing?"
I don't have an answer for that. All I know is that she's looking at me like she's seeing me for the first time, and I'm looking at her like she's the only thing in the world that matters.
Which, terrifyingly, might be true.
I lean in slightly, drawn by something I can't name and can't resist. Her eyes flutter closed, her face tilting up toward mine—
My phone rings.
The sound cuts through the moment like a gunshot, and we both freeze. For a second, neither of us moves, the phone continuing to ring insistently in my pocket.
"Answer it," Sofia says quietly, but she doesn't step away.
Reluctantly, I reach for my phone, checking the caller ID. Rafa.
"Dante."
"Headquarters, now. Boss is having an emergency meeting."
"Now?"
"Yes, now. Drop whatever you're doing and get back to the city. Come alone."
I look down at Sofia, who's watching me with an unreadable expression.
"On my way," I tell Rafa, hanging up.
"Duty calls?" Sofia asks, and there's something almost disappointed in her voice.
"Always does."
She nods, finally stepping away from the wall. The loss of her warmth leaves me feeling cold and strangely empty.
"What was the call about?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Her eyes flash with something dangerous. "It's about me, isn't it?"
I keep my expression neutral, but she must see something in my face because her jaw sets in that stubborn way I've come to recognize.
"It is about me," she says, not really a question anymore. "They're having an emergency meeting about what to do with me."
"Sofia—"
"I have a right to know what's going on with my life, Dante." Her voice is rising now, anger replacing the earlier vulnerability. "These are decisions about my future, about what happens to me, and I have a right to know what they're planning."
She's not wrong. The logical part of my brain knows she's absolutely right—she should know what's being decided about her fate. But the part of me that's been trained to follow orders, to keep family business within the family, balks at the idea.
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple!" She steps closer again, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"This is my life we're talking about. Not yours, not Vito's, not the family's—mine.
And I'm tired of being treated like I'm some kind of object that gets passed around without having any say in what happens to me. "
"You think I want this?" The words come out harsher than I intended. "You think I enjoy watching you get dragged into meetings you're not allowed to attend? You think any of this is easy for me?"
"Then let me go with you."
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I can see the desperation in her eyes, the fear she's trying so hard to hide behind her anger.
"I can't," I say finally, and the words taste like ash in my mouth.
Something in her expression shutters, and she takes a step back from me.
"So what now?" she asks. "You leave, and I go back to being the good little prisoner?"
"Sofia—"
"It's fine, Dante. I get it. Your job comes first."
There's something in her tone that makes me want to explain, to tell her that it's not that simple, that she's making everything complicated in ways I don't understand.
But Rafa's call means something serious is happening in the city, and I can't afford to be distracted.
Even if the distraction has green eyes and makes me question everything I thought I knew about loyalty.
"This isn't over," I tell her.
"What isn't over?"
I look at her for a long moment, memorizing the way she looks in the basement lighting, her hair slightly mussed, her lips still parted like she's waiting for something.
"Nothing," I say finally. "Just... stay out of trouble while I'm gone."