Chapter 26
Dante
She says she wants me.
And I lose my fucking mind.
I push in slow, burying myself inch by inch, every muscle in my body taut with restraint. Her walls clench around me, tight, hot, perfect. Too perfect. The kind of perfect that makes a man believe in fate, in gods, in war—because nothing this good comes without a cost.
She gasps beneath me, nails digging into my back. My bruises scream, my ribs flare with pain, but none of that matters.
All I feel is her.
I still, letting her adjust, trying to breathe through the fire licking up my spine.
“You okay?” I whisper, voice frayed.
She nods, eyes glossy. “Yes. Just… don’t stop.”
My control shatters.
I pull back and thrust again—slow, deep, deliberate. She moans, and the sound slices through me like a blade made of silk. Her back arches, her body welcoming every inch of mine like we were built to fit. To collide.
I lean down, my mouth brushing her jaw as I fuck her slow and filthy.
“Eyes on me, Sofia.”
She tries, but her lashes flutter closed, overwhelmed.
I grip her jaw—not hard, just enough to make her feel me. “Look at me. Now.”
Her eyes snap open, and fuck, that’s it. That’s the moment I feel her fall apart under me. Not from pain. Not from fear. From me. From this.
“That’s it,” I growl, fucking deeper now, harder, angling my hips so she feels everything. “I want you to see what I look like when I ruin you.”
Her lips part in a gasp—pure, breathless wonder. Like she’s never been touched before, never been worshipped like this. Because she hasn’t. Because I’m the first and only one to ever treat her like she’s holy and his at the same time.
My forearms are shaking from holding myself up, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop. Not until she comes undone beneath me. Not until she knows—feels—that this isn’t just a fuck. This is a claim.
“I’ve got you,” I rasp, sweat dripping down my temple as I thrust again, and again, watching her fall apart with every stroke. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go. Let me take you there.”
She shudders beneath me, clinging to my shoulders, whispering my name like a prayer she only just learned how to say.
And when she breaks—fuck.
Her body clamps down around me, pulling me deeper, taking everything I’ve got. She cries out, loud and raw and mine, and that’s when I lose it.
I follow her into the abyss, burying myself one last time, emptying into her like I’m pouring out every ounce of control I’ve ever had. My hips stutter, breath catching as I grind deep, making sure she feels me for days.
When I finally still, I’m drenched in sweat, my body a mess of pain and pleasure, my mind fucking wrecked.
But I don’t care.
Because she’s in my arms.
Breathing. Shaking. Ruined.
I cradle her close, my lips brushing her temple, her pulse hammering against my chest.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice barely more than a rasp.
She lifts her head, hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her eyes—those wide, shattered eyes—find mine.
“I’m ruined,” she whispers.
And fuck, the way she says it…
I smile—dark, possessive, satisfied.
“Good.”
For a long moment, we just lie there, breathing hard, her body still trembling beneath mine. I can feel her heartbeat gradually slowing where her chest presses against mine, can feel the way she's still holding onto me like I might disappear if she lets go.
I never want her to let go.
When I finally pull back to look at her, her eyes are glazed, unfocused. There's a flush spreading down her neck and chest, and her lips are swollen from my kisses. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the possessive part of me that I didn't know existed roars with satisfaction.
"Hey," I say softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Stay with me, princess."
She blinks, focus slowly returning to her eyes. "I'm here."
"How do you feel?"
A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Like I finally understand what all the fuss is about now."
I can't help but chuckle, even as pride swells in my chest. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Her hand comes up to trace the line of my jaw. "That was... I never knew it could be like that."
"It's not always like that," I tell her honestly. "That was... that was something else entirely."
"What was it?"
I lean down and kiss her forehead, gentle and reverent. "That was love, Sofia. Real love."
Her breath catches, and I see tears gathering in her eyes again. But these are different tears—not fear or pain, but something that looks suspiciously like joy.
"I love you too," she whispers. "So much it scares me."
"Good scared or bad scared?"
"Good scared. The kind that makes me want to be brave."
I kiss her then, soft and slow, tasting the truth on her lips.
When we break apart, I reluctantly pull away from her, ignoring her small sound of protest.
"Where are you going?"
"Nowhere far. Just getting something to clean you up." I press another kiss to her forehead. "I'll be right back."
I find a washcloth in the bathroom and run it under warm water, my hands surprisingly unsteady. When I return, Sofia has pulled the sheet up to cover herself, watching me with eyes that are still soft and trusting.
"Let me take care of you," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She lets me, lying still as I gently clean away the evidence of what we've done. I'm as careful as I can be, knowing she's probably sore, and when she winces slightly, I murmur apologies against her skin.
"It's okay," she assures me. "I'm okay. Better than okay."
When I'm done, I toss the washcloth aside and climb back into bed with her. She immediately curls into my side, her head finding its place on my chest like that's where it belongs.
"Dante?"
"Mm?"
"When we leave tomorrow... where will we go?"
I run my fingers through her hair, thinking. "I have contacts. People who can help us disappear. New identities, new lives. It'll take some time to arrange, but we can do it."
"And until then?"
"Until then, we keep moving. Stay ahead of anyone who might be looking for us." I tilt her chin up so I can see her face. "Are you sure about this, Sofia? Really sure? Because once we run, there's no going back. Ever."
"I'm sure." There's no hesitation in her voice. "I'd rather have one day of freedom with you than a lifetime of being someone else's property."
"It won't be easy. We'll have to be careful, smart. We won't be able to contact our families, won't be able to—"
"Dante." She presses a finger to my lips. "I'm sure. About you, about us, about leaving all of this behind. Are you?"
I think about Vito, about the man who saved me from the streets and gave me purpose. About the family that's been my whole world for fifteen years. About the life I'm about to throw away for the woman in my arms.
"I've never been more sure of anything," I tell her, and it's the truth.
She smiles then, brilliant and beautiful, and kisses me with a sweetness that makes my chest ache.
"So what's the plan?" she asks against my lips.
"We leave before dawn. Take back roads, avoid the highways. I have a safe house about six hours from here where we can lay low for a few days while I make arrangements."
"And then?"
"Then we disappear. New names, new lives, new everything. Just you and me."
"Just you and me," she repeats, like she's testing the words.
"Having second thoughts?"
"No." She settles more firmly against me. "I'm thinking about what name I want to pick. Something completely different from Sofia Gallo."
"You don't have to decide tonight."
"I know. But I want to. I want to choose who I become next." She looks up at me. "What about you? Who do you want to be when you're not Dante Mancini anymore?"
It's a good question. For fifteen years, I've been Vito's enforcer, the family's weapon. Before that, I was just a scared kid on the streets. I've never really thought about who I might be if I got to choose.
"I don't know," I admit. "But I know I want to be whatever you need me to be."
"I need you to be you. Just you, without all the rest of it. Without the family and the orders and the violence. Just Dante."
"I don't know if I know how to be just Dante."
"Then we'll figure it out together."
The storm outside has finally quieted, leaving just the sound of our breathing and the steady rhythm of rain against the windows. Sofia's breathing is getting slower, heavier, and I can feel her starting to drift off.
"Sleep," I murmur against her hair. "I'll keep watch."
"You need to sleep too."
"I will. Just want to make sure we're safe first."
"We are safe. We're together."
And somehow, despite everything—despite the danger we're in, despite the lives we're about to leave behind, despite the uncertainty ahead—I believe her.
We are safe. Because we're together.
I hold her close as she drifts off to sleep, her breathing evening out, her body relaxing completely against mine. And for the first time in years, I let myself imagine a future that doesn't involve violence or orders or loyalty to anyone but the woman in my arms.
Tomorrow, we'll run. Tomorrow, we'll start over.
Tonight, we're just two people who found love in the middle of chaos, holding onto each other like we're each other's anchor in a storm.
And maybe that's enough.
Maybe that's everything.