Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dante & Elena
Dante
It was deep into the night. A couple of owls flew overhead, their cries fading into the distance.
Samuel had dispatched twenty fully armed men, with Delgado at the helm. A retired special forces operative, Delgado was highly skilled in combat. He gripped the drone controller, his eyes fixed on the thermal imaging screen as he monitored the incoming footage in real time.
"Well?" I raked my fingers through my hair, pacing like a caged animal.
Delgado signaled for me to calm down. “We’ll have their location soon. This industrial zone is massive. If we go in blindly, we risk alerting them and putting the hostages in danger.”
The monitor beeped. I whipped around.
"Got it!"
Delgado locked the position—the factory on the upper right corner. And they had numbers. Serious numbers.
Cruz had come prepared. According to the feed on the display, there were at least fifty men lying in wait. But I couldn’t afford to waste even a second. I immediately pulled up the map of the industrial area. Years of training had allowed me to quickly formulate a tactical plan.
I jabbed at the factory's main entrance. "Only one way in. You draw their fire, pull them out. Once they're clear, I go in alone and get Elena."
Delgado grabbed my arm. "No way. You'll get yourself killed!"
"Marco's on his way. He'll be here soon." I pressed my hand over his. "They've got too many guns. I won't let you walk into a slaughter. Just pull them away from the building. Leave the rest to me."
Plan set, I didn't give Delgado time to argue. I bolted toward the factory.
Gunfire erupted at the main entrance, shredding the quiet night. Delgado stuck to the plan, drawing fire as he fell back. The shots moved away. I seized the moment and slipped through the door.
Elena was dead center in the factory floor. A harsh light beat down on her head. She looked fragile. Broken.
They'd bound her completely, gagged her mouth. When she saw me, tears spilled from her eyes.
"Elena!"
My chest seized. I couldn't think about anything else. I charged forward, knife out, cutting through the ropes, freeing her from the bindings. Half her face was swollen, bruises and scrapes covered her body. I touched her cheek. "I'm sorry, Elena. I should've protected you."
Elena shook her head weakly and pushed at me. "Dante... it's a trap."
A gunshot cracked behind me. I caught the sound of a safety clicking off and rolled with Elena to the ground. A bullet grazed past me and punched into the wall.
Javier came at us, gun up, cursing.
I fired back twice and shoved Elena behind a rack. "Stay down."
Elena crouched, hand over her mouth, tears streaming.
Javier clutched his arm where I'd hit him, howling. "Dante, you're dead!"
I dove and rolled, dodging his shots.
Blood made Javier reckless. He charged the rack—straight for Elena. He raised his gun. Aimed at her.
I lined up the shot. Got there first.
Bang.
Javier's eyes went wide. He dropped at my feet.
"Dante!"
Elena sobbed, hand over her mouth. She stumbled toward me. I relaxed, reaching for her—then another shot rang out from the entrance.
Instinct took over. I threw myself in front of Elena, taking the hit with my body. The bullet tore into my back. Pain ripped through me.
I grunted and collapsed with Elena in my arms.
Hector Cruz's voice echoed through the empty warehouse.
"How touching. Young love. Shame you're both about to die."
His footsteps closed in. Elena clutched my shirt, fingers trembling. "Dante..."
Pain threatened to drag me under, but I raised my gun and kept my body between Elena and him. "Hector, I'll agree to your terms. Now."
"Too late."
Hector's gun pointed at my head.
Then I saw Marco's silhouette at the door. One look. We had a plan.
"You kill me, those old bastards in the family won't give you the route!"
My voice came out hard.
Hector hesitated. Thinking it over.
That split second—Marco took it. One shot. Clean through Hector's skull. Hector's eyes went wide, body rigid. He hit the ground.
My strength gave out. I fell backward onto the concrete.
Marco and his men stormed in. Elena collapsed over me, sobbing.
My vision blurred. I lifted my hand, barely, tried to comfort her. My voice came out thin. "It's okay..."
Then the pain swallowed me whole. Everything went dark.
Elena
Dante collapsed in front of me, face drained of color. Blood poured from his back—so much red it burned my eyes.
I shook all over, pressing my hands to his wound. "Wake up, Dante, look at me—"
But Dante's eyes stayed shut. No matter what I said, he didn't respond.
"Sorry, ma'am."
Marco pulled me off Dante and waved men over. "Get Dante to the hospital. Move!"
My legs buckled. Marco caught me and steered me to a car. "We're going to the hospital. He needs surgery. Now."
"Okay, okay..."
In the car, I stared at Dante's blood on my palms. I couldn't breathe. He'd been shot right in front of me. He'd taken that bullet for me.
Tears fell and splashed onto my hands, diluting the blood.
The hospital wasn't far. Dante was rushed into surgery. I sat outside the operating room. My nails dug into my palms, but I didn't feel the pain. I needed it to stay awake.
Guards lined the hallway, securing us both.
Marco brought a doctor over. "Check her too. She was kidnapped for over a day. And she's pregnant."
The doctor ran basic tests. "She has some external injuries. If you want to confirm the baby's safe, we should do an ultrasound."
I shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere."
I had to wait here for him.
Marco sighed. "I'll wait here. Any news, you'll know first. Ma'am, Dante cares about you. He cares about your baby. You've been through hell. You need to get checked."
I sat rigid in the chair. I wouldn't leave. If something happened to Dante, I couldn't imagine how I'd survive.
"If something happens to the baby—" Marco's voice sharpened. "Is that what Dante would want?"
My fists unclenched.
My eyes dropped to my stomach. Marco was right. This life inside me belonged to Dante too. I had to protect it.
"Okay." I finally gave in.
A nurse helped me onto a bed and wheeled me to the ultrasound room.
Thank God. The baby was healthy. No problems.
The nurse cleaned me up and treated my wounds. I sat there like a rag doll, letting her work.
"You're malnourished. You should stay for observation," the doctor said.
I nodded silently. A nurse prepped glucose and inserted an IV into my left hand.
They moved me to a spacious VIP room. My eyes stayed fixed on the door, waiting for news about Dante's surgery.
Time blurred. Finally, Marco knocked and entered.
"Ma'am, surgery was successful. Dante's been moved to recovery."
I cried with relief. "Thank God..."
They wheeled Dante into the room. His face was deathly pale, motionless on the bed. I reached out and gently took his hand.
That hand—always warm, always solid—felt cold now.
I squeezed it tight. In that touch, that warmth, my nerves finally began to settle.
The heart monitor beeped steadily. The constant tension had left me brittle. Now, with everything finally settled, exhaustion dragged me under. I drifted into sleep.