Dante #2
The logging road appeared exactly where the map promised. An old pickup truck sat abandoned beneath a tarp, and Rocco froze. "No way,” he said.
"What?" Dante asked. Rocco pulled the tarp free.
"It's one of ours,” Rocco said. The keys still hung in the ignition. “Avery,” he breathed. “She must have planned ahead.
Dante looked around. "Where is Avery?"
Rocco's smile disappeared. "Buying us time.
" None of them spoke because they all knew what that meant. Avery and a bunch of the operatives stayed behind at the old church to hold back Keller’s men.
They were giving the three of them time to get away, and he worried that he was asking too much of Avery and the other men.
Dante just hoped that they were all right when the dust settled.
Rocco climbed behind the wheel and turned the key.
The engine roared to life, and he fist bumped the air, making him and Lark smile.
Dante slid into the passenger seat, and Lark settled between them on the worn bench seat, still clutching Isabella's journal against her chest. The pickup fishtailed onto the muddy road just as headlights burst from the trees behind them.
"They're coming," Lark whispered.
"They'll keep coming," Dante answered.
Rocco shifted into a higher gear. "Then let's make them work for it." The truck bounced violently over the uneven road. For nearly an hour, they drove without speaking, taking back roads and abandoned service routes until the lights behind them finally disappeared. Only then did Rocco slow.
"I think we lost them,” Rocco said. No one celebrated because they all knew Keller would find them again. The only question was when.
Just before dawn, they reached a weathered cabin hidden deep inside a state forest. It was small with only one bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen that hadn't been updated since the eighties. But it was a perfect place to disappear for a few nights.
Rocco killed the engine. "No one knows about this place."
Dante looked over. "STARR safe house?"
Rocco shook his head. "It was my father's cabin. I only came here a few times with him, as a kid." Silence settled over the cab of the truck. "I restored part of it after—” He didn't finish, but he didn't need to.
Lark gently rested her hand over his. "I'm glad you kept it.
" He looked down at her hand and then at Dante. He should have been jealous, but he wasn’t.
Neither man spoke because there was nothing to say.
They had escaped Keller. They had Isabella's journal.
They were completely alone, and for the first time since he and Lark had fled the Santos estate, there were no guards, no agents, and no enemies within earshot.
It was just three wounded souls standing on the porch of a forgotten cabin, with an uncertain future waiting beyond the sunrise.
“Let’s get some shut-eye,” Rocco ordered. “I’ll reach out to Avery in a few hours to figure out our next move.” They followed him into the safe house, and Dante looked around. It was tiny but felt safe and warm—something he was sure that Lark hadn’t felt in a long time.
Rocco tossed his backpack into the only bedroom and looked Lark over.
“Why don’t you take the bathroom first?” he asked.
“You can borrow one of my T-shirts to sleep in.” She nodded and shyly walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind herself.
The thought of Lark in another man’s T-shirt should have pissed him off.
Instead, it made him hot, and all he could think about was how she’d look between the two of them.
“I’m going to run out to the truck and check in with my team,” Rocco said. Dante could see the worry on his face. “I’ve had the place stocked, just in case things went south with Santos’s deal tonight, so we can stay here for a few weeks, if necessary.
Dante nodded. “I’ll hang out here,” he said, “and keep an eye on Lark.”
Rocco nodded. “Yeah, sooner or later, the three of us are going to have to sit down and figure out what’s happening between her and us—but it can wait until we get some rest. You both must be exhausted.
” Dante was, but he liked the idea of figuring out what was happening between the three of them.
For now, Rocco was right—they all needed some shut-eye.
The safe house was finally quiet—not because the danger had passed, but because exhaustion had claimed everyone left standing. Rafael's warning still echoed in Dante's head.
Don’t trust anyone.
The bloodstained paper remained folded inside his jacket, waiting until they could examine it without wondering who might be listening. Rocco agreed to take the first shift, watching the cabin, so that Dante and Lark could get some sleep. The only problem was Lark hadn't slept, and neither had he.
He quickly showered and found her standing alone on the bed, wrapped in an oversized gray T-shirt that Rocco had given her, with her hair still damp from her shower. "You'll catch cold," he said softly.
She didn't look over at him. "I feel like I can’t breathe.” He understood that. For a long moment, he simply stood beside her, leaving enough space that she wouldn't feel trapped. It struck him that even now, after everything they'd survived, he was still careful not to take away her choices.
"I've been thinking," she whispered.
"That can be dangerous,” he teased.
A quiet laugh escaped her. "So I've been told." She finally looked at him. The bruises on her cheek had begun to fade, but the sadness in her eyes hadn't. "I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?” he asked.
"This—" She gestured between them. "Whatever this is."
Dante's chest tightened. "You don't have to figure it out tonight."
"I've never been allowed to want anyone,” she admitted.
He swallowed hard. "I know."
"My father decided who I talked to." He nodded. "And whom I saw."
"I know,” he breathed, sitting on the bed next to her. "And now I have feelings for the man who locked my bedroom door every night."
Pain flickered across his face. "I'd understand if you hated me."
"I tried to hate you,” she said, smiling over at him sadly. "It didn't work."
He let out a shaky breath. "I don't deserve you." She reached out slowly, giving him every chance to move away, but he didn't.
Her fingertips brushed his jaw. "You don't get to decide what I deserve."
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning gently into her touch. "I've wanted to hold you for so long," he admitted.
Her breath caught. "So hold me." Very carefully, as though she were something precious, Dante slipped his arms around her and Lark melted against him with a soft sigh.
For the first time since he'd known her, there were no locked doors, no orders, no fear dictating where they stood with each other.
She rested her cheek against his chest, and he gently kissed the top of her head.
"I like this," she murmured.
"So do I,” he whispered. They remained there for several quiet minutes, saying nothing. The silence felt comforting instead of empty.
Lark tilted her face up toward his. "I've been wanting to do something."
He smiled faintly. "What's stopping you?"
"Old habits,” she admitted. “And something else that we need to talk about.”
"You mean someone else, don’t you?” he asked. “You don't need permission from anyone, Lark. Not anymore."
She searched his eyes. "You'll tell me if I move too fast?" she asked.
"I promise,” he breathed. She smiled and then leaned into his body. The kiss was soft, tentative, and filled with all the emotions neither of them had known how to say aloud. Dante answered the kiss with the same care, one hand cradling her face while the other rested lightly at her waist.
"I've imagined that kiss a thousand times," he confessed.
She laughed quietly. "How did the real one compare?"
He smiled. "It was better." She brushed another gentle kiss across his lips before resting her head against his shoulder again.
Neither of them noticed the bedroom door was open.
Rocco stepped into the room and stopped dead in his tracks.
Dante looked up first, and for a heartbeat, neither man spoke.
Then Lark turned to find Rocco standing there, and a blush warmed her cheeks, but she didn't move away from Dante. She didn't hide from either of them.
Rocco smiled—small, genuine, and unexpectedly warm. "I’m sorry that I interrupted; I’ll go.”
Lark met his eyes. “No,” she breathed. The word surprised all three of them. Rocco's smile faded into something softer—something hopeful. Dante knew that look because he felt the same way when it came to Lark.
She patted the mattress on her other side, and without another word, he joined them, leaving respectful space between himself and the two of them.
For the first time since the nightmare began, the three of them sat together in silence—not as prisoners, guards, or agents, but as three people whose lives had become irrevocably intertwined.
“So, what happens now?” Lark whispered. She reached down and took Dante’s hand into her own, doing the same with Rocco.
Dante wasn’t sure what happened next, but he hoped like hell that Lark still wanted him when the sun came up again.
That was all that mattered to him, and if sharing her with Rocco was the only way to make her happy, then that was exactly what he’d do.
“Now, we get some sleep,” Rocco said. “And tomorrow, we figure out the rest.”