Dante
"South gate breached!"
"Shots fired!"
"Man down!"
"We've got hostiles inside!"
"Protect Mr. Santos!"
Dante ignored every order—every single one. There was only one person he cared about protecting, and that was Lark. He sprinted through the marble hallway, shoving two armed guards out of his way.
"Move!" he shouted.
Another explosion rattled the mansion, shaking dust from the ceiling. Somewhere downstairs, glass shattered as men screamed for help. Who the hell was attacking? Honestly, it didn't matter. He reached Lark's hallway just as two of Santos's soldiers rounded the corner.
"Boss wants everyone downstairs!" one barked.
Dante never slowed. "I'm getting the daughter."
"The boss said—" The guard started, but Dante wasn’t about to let him finish that sentence.
"I don't give a damn what he said." He slammed into the first guard with enough force to knock him into the wall before continuing toward Lark's room. The second man cursed as he ran after him, but Dante didn't look back.
He shoved the bedroom door open and looked around the room. "Lark!"
She turned from the balcony, her eyes wide. "Dante!” Relief nearly buckled his knees. She was alive. Maria stood beside her, pale as a ghost.
"What the hell is happening?" Lark demanded.
"I don't know,” Dante admitted. Another burst of gunfire echoed much closer this time, and Dante crossed the room in three strides and grabbed Lark's hands.
"We're leaving,” he ordered.
Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"We're getting out of here,” he said.
Maria stared at him. "You can't mean?—"
"I do,” Dante said.
Lark searched his face. "What about my father?"
"I don't care,” he lied. He knew that leaving the compound with Lark by his side was his way of signing both of their death certificates, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He'd stopped caring about Rafael Santos somewhere between the first lie and the thousandth corpse.
"He'll kill you,” Lark said.
"Probably."
"You'll lose your sister,” she continued.
Pain sliced through his chest as he thought of Sofia.
He thought of the picture Santos had slid across his desk and the promise he'd made himself to find and save her.
But then, he looked at Lark—bruised, terrified, and just moments away from being sold to the highest bidder- and his decision became terrifyingly simple.
"If I leave you here.—” His voice cracked. "I'll lose myself for good."
Silence filled the room, and Maria quietly stepped backward. "I'll buy you time."
"No." Dante shook his head. "I'm not leaving you.”
The older woman smiled sadly. "My husband worked with your father.” Dante frowned.
"He died protecting Isabella." He felt as though everything stopped around him.
Lark looked between them in shock as Maria reached into her apron pocket.
"I hoped I'd never need this." She handed Dante a small brass key. "It’s to the old wine cellar."
He looked down at the key in his hand, confused. "What?"
"It connects to the original tunnels beneath the estate,” Maria said.
Lark blinked at Maria. "There are tunnels under the compound?”
Maria nodded. "They were built during Prohibition."
Dante's pulse quickened. "Where do they lead?" he asked.
"To the river,” Maria said. Hope exploded inside him because it was possible for them to escape this hell they were both prisoners of.
The bedroom door burst open, and Marco rushed inside with his rifle raised. "There you are!" Everyone froze as Marco looked between Dante, Lark, and the packed backpack sitting beside the bed. Dante watched as Marco’s expression hardened.
"Oh.” He slowly closed the door behind him. "So that's what this is." Dante instinctively moved in front of Lark, and Marco sighed. "I was hoping I was wrong."
"You don't want to do this,” Dante warned.
Marco laughed humorlessly. "Funny.” He adjusted his grip on the rifle. "I was about to say the same thing."
Lark clutched Dante's arm. "Dante.”
"It's okay,” he lied. It wasn't okay because Marco wasn't just another guard. He'd trained beside Dante for years, and they knew each other's habits, weaknesses, and how the other fought.
"This isn't about her," Dante said quietly.
Marco shook his head. "It stopped being about her the second you chose her over the family."
"There is no family,” Dante spat.
"There was, and you betrayed Mr. Santos for that slut,” Marco shouted. His jaw tightened. "We all made choices,” he said.
"You chose Santos,” Dante said.
"I chose surviving,” Marco spat.
"So am I,” Dante insisted.
Marco looked past him at Lark. "You know he'll never stop hunting you."
"I know,” Lark whispered.
"He'll burn down Chicago to find you,” Marco warned. Dante hated the fear that he saw on Lark’s face.
"I know,” she breathed.
"You'll never be safe,” Marco said.
Dante smiled for the first time all night because that wasn’t decided yet. He could keep her safe. He’d die trying. "Maybe not,” he said, looking down at Lark. "But she'll be free."
Something changed in Marco's expression—something that looked a lot like regret. "You really love her."
Dante didn't hesitate. "Yes." The word echoed through the bedroom, and Lark's breath caught sharply behind him. There was no taking it back now, not that he wanted to. He loved her—completely and hopelessly. Enough to die for her.
Marco closed his eyes for a brief second, then lowered his rifle. "Go."
Dante stared at him, not sure if he should trust Marco or not. "What?"
"I didn't see anything,” Marco said.
"Marco—" Dante started.
"Shut up.” Marco rubbed a tired hand across his face.
"I joined Santos because I needed money for my mother's cancer treatments.
" His voice was hollow. "She died anyway.
" Silence settled over the room. "I've spent five years telling myself I wasn't one of the bad guys.
" He laughed bitterly. "Turns out I was just another coward.
" He looked directly at Lark. "Your mother once gave my little sister a birthday present when nobody else remembered. "
Lark's eyes widened. "My mother?"
Marco nodded. "She deserved better than what your father did to her." He stepped aside from the doorway. "You both deserve better." Dante couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Go,” Marco shouted.
Another explosion rocked the mansion, and Marco looked toward the hallway. "I'll tell Santos you escaped through the balcony."
"He’ll kill you," Dante said.
Marco shrugged. "Maybe." Then he smiled faintly. "But maybe this is the first decent thing I've done in years, so it’s worth it."
Dante gripped his shoulder. "Thank you."
Marco nodded. "Find your sister."
The words hit Dante like a freight train. "I intend to." He turned to Lark. "Grab the backpack."
She did, and Maria pulled her in for a hug. "Your mother would be proud of you."
Tears streamed down Lark's face as she hugged the older woman. "Come with us." Maria smiled sadly. "My place is here."
"No—" Lark insisted.
"If I disappear tonight, Rafael will know someone helped you,” she said, cupping Lark's face gently. "I can still protect you by staying."
Lark nodded through her tears. "I'll come back for you."
Maria kissed her forehead. "I know."
Dante took Lark's hand and, for the first time, he wasn’t her jailer or her guard—he was just the man who loved her. He squeezed gently. "Ready?" She looked at him as fear filled her beautiful eyes. But beneath it, he saw hope. It was the kind neither of them had felt in years.
She nodded. “I’m ready,” she said. “Take me home.”
He smiled. "I don't have one."
She squeezed his hand tighter. "Then let's go find one—together." They slipped into the hidden passage concealed behind the wine cellar, while above them the Santos empire burned and, somewhere inside the chaos, another predator was moving through the mansion.
The tunnel smelled of damp earth, rust, and decades of neglect.
Dante kept one hand wrapped tightly around Lark's as they hurried through the narrow passage, his pistol drawn in his other hand.
The beam from the small flashlight attached to the barrel cut through the darkness, revealing old brick walls slick with moisture.
Somewhere above them, muffled explosions continued to shake the estate.
The attack hadn't stopped. If anything, it was getting worse.
For the first time in years, Rafael Santos wasn't in complete control.
Behind them, the heavy steel door groaned shut, but Dante didn't slow. "We need to keep moving."
Lark stumbled over an uneven section of the floor before catching herself. "I am moving."
"Faster,” he barked.
She shot him an irritated look. "I can't see a damn thing." He immediately regretted snapping at her. She'd spent her entire life trapped inside that mansion, only to find herself running through a century-old tunnel with gunfire exploding overhead.
"I'm sorry,” he whispered.
"What?" she asked.
"I said that I’m sorry,” Dante repeated. The words felt foreign. "I shouldn't have barked at you."
A tiny smile tugged at her lips despite everything. "I think that's the first apology I've ever gotten from you."
"It probably is,” he agreed.
"I should write this date down,” she teased.
A surprised laugh escaped him. "I like hearing you laugh." She hadn't meant to say it aloud. He could tell that by the way Lark's cheeks flushed in the dim light.
"I don't laugh very often,” he said.
"I noticed,” she said. For the first time since they'd met, there wasn't a locked door between them—no cameras, no guards, and no Rafael Santos. It was just the two of them and the future neither of them had dared imagine.
They rounded another bend before Dante suddenly stopped. His arm shot out across Lark's chest, and she froze instantly.