29. Dante
Chapter 29
Dante
C armen crashes into me, her lips urgent and desperate, and everything inside me shatters .
For weeks, I’ve been running on fumes, suffocating under the weight of uncertainty, but now, with her pressed against me, I can breathe again.
My hands find her waist, pulling her closer, like I can make up for every second we’ve spent apart. She’s shaking, but she kisses me like she needs this as much as I do. Like she’s been as adrift without me as I have her.
I missed her.
God, I’ve missed her.
The way she fits against me is like she was carved from my ribs. I’ve missed the way her lips move against mine, warm and soft and full of something that neither of us dare name, but we both know is there.
I’ve missed the taste of her.
I tighten my grip, tilting her head, deepening the kiss, hands tangling in her curls. God, those curls . The feeling of her in my arms is so much better than I remembered.
The world could end around us, and I couldn’t give less of a shit.
I kiss her like I can prove something to her. Like I can tell her all the things I was too much of a coward to say before. That I never stopped thinking about her. That I never wanted to let her go. That I love her.
I love her.
When I finally pull away, it's not because I want to. It’s because I have to. Because if I let myself give in to her, I’ll be shouting my confessions and taking her to pieces on a cramped little cell bed. And she deserves so much more than that.
She deserves more than I could ever offer her.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in like she’s the only thing tethering me to this world. Her hands stay equally tethered to my shirt.
“You bastard,” she breathes against my lips. “You couldn’t have come any sooner?”
I laugh for the first time in weeks. “I’m sorry, princess. It took me a second to convince the Guild to launch a full-scale attack on this place that didn’t involve burning the entire mansion to the ground.”
“You did what?!”
I press a kiss on her forehead, unable to help myself. But then her breath shudders as she exhales, her fingers curling tighter into the fabric at my chest. She’s trembling.
Too little, too late. I should have stormed this place the second the exchange was over. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t—I should never?—”
She looks up at me with wild, caramel eyes. “I’m pregnant, Dante.”
“I know.”
“And you came anyway?”
“I should never have let you go in the first place,” I finally manage to get the words out. “Please let me get you out of here. Let me keep you both safe.”
I watch how her breath catches before slowly exhaling again. She nods, and I carefully take her hand in mine as I lead her out of the cell and into the hallway beyond.
She doesn’t speak again until we’re closer to the exit. The gunfire is louder here than before, and I automatically position her behind me as I reach for the door.
“How did you do it?” she asks, voice hushed. “How did you convince Leon to come for me?”
I hesitate.
There’s a truth to be told here beyond what she’s asking—one that I haven’t even had time to process myself. That I would have come for her alone if I had to. That none of this—the Guild, the Cartel, any of it—mattered more to me than she did.
I open my mouth, but before I can answer?—
The door slams open.
Carmen jolts, her grip on my hand tightening as I reach for my gun.
Mia stands there, breathless, gun raised. Her sharp green eyes lock onto mine, then flicker to Carmen.
A slow smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“Found you.”
“Red?” The broken gasp that comes from Carmen shatters my heart.
Carmen hesitates for only a second before stepping forward, her hand slipping from mine as she closes the distance between her and Mia.
Back in Italy, she spoke so rarely of Mia. She may as well have been a ghost—an old friend turned enemy and a bad, painful memory. But now, standing face-to-face in the belly of the Rubio mansion, none of that seems to matter.
Mia exhales sharply, lowering her gun, and then—before I can blink—she steps into Carmen’s space and pulls her into a fierce embrace.
“I’m sorry,” Mia whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry, Carmy.”
Carmen stiffens against her at first, but as Mia clings to her, Carmen melts into the hold, her fingers grasping at the back of Mia’s jacket.
Mia keeps talking, her voice shaking as she whispers apologies into Carmen’s hair.
“I should’ve told you the truth. I should’ve never let it end the way it did. I thought—I thought I was doing the right thing. But I should have been protecting you, like I promised, like you asked me to.”
She pulls back just enough to meet Carmen’s gaze, her hands still gripping her arms like she doesn’t want to let go. “You have no idea how much I regret it.”
Carmen swipes at her tear-streaked face, letting out a watery laugh. “I missed you.”
Mia smiles, too. “I missed you too.”
I shift my weight, trying to give them their moment, but we don’t have time for this. We’re standing in the middle of enemy territory, and every second we waste is another second closer to someone figuring out we’re down here.
Mia seems to realize this at the same time I do. She turns to me, all business again, her expression sharp.
“Our people are holding on, but they’re not going to last much longer,” she says, rolling her shoulders like she’s itching for a fight.
“Leon’s got the main force keeping Rubio’s men occupied, but we’re losing the element of surprise. If we don’t move now, we’re going to be trapped when he decides he’s had enough of precision and wants to start burning this place to the ground.”
Of course.
I grit my teeth, already picturing Leon ordering the mansion torched before we’ve even made it to the exit. The man has a taste for destruction, and considering what this house did to Mia, I don’t blame him.
“Then we move. Now.”
I reach for Carmen’s hand again, and without hesitation, she takes it.
Mia pulls a spare gun from her holster and presses it into Carmen’s open palm.
“Take it,” she orders.
Carmen’s fingers close around the grip, but she looks at the weapon like it’s a venomous snake. “I don’t even know how to use this.”
“Point and pull the trigger,” Mia says flatly. “Just don’t aim at us.”
“Stay close,” I tell her, shifting so I can shield her between me and Mia. Carmen nods stiffly, curling her fingers tighter around the gun as we move out.
The place is in chaos. Gunfire, shouting, the distant roar of something burning. Damn it, already? I don’t have to see Leon to know he’s making good on his promise to torch the fucking place.
I focus on keeping Carmen moving away from the dark, billowing smoke. But it means crossing more than a few enemies in the process.
Luckily, Mia and I make one brutally efficient team, dropping anyone who gets in our way. No hesitations, no prisoners. Moving quickly so that no one has time to notice us?—
“They have her!” someone shouts in Spanish.
Shit.
The second they realize that Carmen is with us, the fight shifts its focus. Suddenly, the Cartel stops putting out fires and starts rounding on us in alarming numbers.
“Move!” Mia barks.
We push forward, cutting through the bloodied hallways. Every room we pass is another wrecked battlefield.
We’re almost to the outer corridor when a monstrous-looking bastard barrels out of a side door and slams into Mia.
She grunts, staggering back as he throws her against the wall. She recovers fast, driving her elbow into his throat, but he’s massive and barely reacts, slamming his fist into her ribs with enough force to send her to her knees.
“Mia!” Carmen cries.
I pivot, ready to step in, but Mia snarls, yanking her knife from her belt. She stabs the bastard in the thigh, twisting viciously before wrenching it free. He howls in pain, but he’s still standing.
“Run!” Mia orders. “I’ll hold them off!”
“No!” Carmen tries to move toward her, but I grab her wrist and pull her back.
“We don’t have time for this,” I snap, my grip firm but not unkind. “We have to go.”
Carmen struggles against me, panic in her eyes. “We can’t leave her!”
Mia meets my gaze over Carmen’s shoulder, her breathing ragged. There’s no fear there, only ironclad determination. She knows what she’s doing.
“Go,” she says, softer this time.
It kills me to leave her behind. It kills me to drag Carmen away when she’s fighting me every step. But I don’t hesitate. I have to trust that Mia can handle herself.
With Carmen’s choked protests ringing in my ears, I pull her down the hallway toward the exit.
Just a few more steps, just a little further, and we’ll be out of this hellhole for good. I keep my grip tight around Carmen’s wrist, my body tense, ready to gun down anyone who tries to stop us.
We run into the foyer, the front doors already half-blasted open. I can see Teo in the distance, beckoning us over. As long as we keep moving, as long as nothing gets in our way…
Then—
“ Carmen. ”
A single word, deep and booming, cutting through the gunfire and chaos like a blade to the throat.
And Carmen stops.
I nearly yank her off her feet with the force of my momentum, but she plants herself, body frozen, head turned toward the voice.
I already know who it is before I even look.
Amos Rubio.
He stands at the top of the grand staircase, his dark eyes locked on his daughter as he descends. Slowly. Deliberately. The chaos around us feels distant as if the entire mansion is holding its breath.
I shift in front of Carmen, angling my gun toward him, but he doesn’t even look at me.
This is between him and his daughter.
“Where are you going?” his voice carries almost impossibly over the carnage. “Have you not betrayed me enough?”
Carmen stiffens beside me. She’s barely breathing.
Amos keeps walking, his steps slow and heavy.
“You disgraced yourself. And now, you dare to run?” He stops at the base of the stairs, tilting his head. “You think the Italians will accept you? You think this man will keep you safe?”
“Better than leaving her to the mercy of Lacruz.”
He ignores me, though I notice his eye twitch. His glare, however, remains on Carmen.
“Your mother would be disgusted with you.”
Carmen flinches like she’s been physically struck.
Something inside me snaps.
“Don’t,” I snarl, stepping forward. “Don’t you dare?—”
But Carmen suddenly wrenches her wrist from my grasp.
My chest tightens as she takes a step forward—toward him.
No.
No, no, no.
I reach for her, but I don’t touch her.
This is it. The moment that decides everything.
Carmen stands between us, caught between the man who raised her and the man who would burn the world down to save her.
“ Fuck you ,” she says.
She says in clear, perfect Italian.
Her chin juts up. Defiant. Stong. Oh, so lovely. My Carmen. My little defiant girl. My brave, brave girl.
Amos’ expression darkens, hardening into pure, venomous hatred. Before I can react, he lunges.
“I should have let Lacruz kill you weeks ago.”
His hand rises—aiming for Carmen’s face.
I’m faster.
I snatch his wrist mid-air, my grip like iron as I snarl, “Don’t you dare touch her.”
For a second, we’re locked in place. Then, with a growl, Amos wrenches free and swings at me instead.
I duck.
His fist whizzes past my ear, and I use the opening to drive my own into his ribs. He grunts but barely falters. He’s truly a beast of a man, but I don’t let that stop me. I keep going, striking again, faster, forcing him back.
Amos is older, but he has experience. He knows how to wait for an opening, and I realize too late that I’m about to give him one.
Pain explodes in my gut.
His elbow slams into me, knocking the wind from my lungs, and in the split second I stumble, he capitalizes with a brutal hook to my jaw and a follow-up blow to my ribs.
I stagger back, vision flashing.
I hear someone scream my name.
The world spins as I catch myself. My feet steady, my pulse a war drum in my skull as I take stock.
That fucking hurt.
Another couple of blows like that…if I hadn’t already fought Lacruz, maybe I could have bounced back quicker. But it feels like my bones are protesting, bruising, aching already.
A few weeks back in the field does not make up for five months out of it.
Damn it.
I look back up and notice the crowd gathered in the wreckage of the Rubio mansion. Mia and Leon, side by side. Teo and Rocco, standing frozen.
Guild and Cartel alike, watching with wide eyes as Amos Rubio and I fight like rabid dogs in the center of the battlefield.
A reckoning years in the making.
My lip curls, and I spit blood to the floor. “That all you got?”
Amos doesn’t smile.
He lunges again, and the fight turns desperate. No more precision, no more strategy—just raw, vicious force.
I manage to land a punch to his ribs and another to his temple, but he shakes them off, swinging at me with the fury of a man who’s never learned how to lose. I block, duck, counter. He’s slowing down, but I’m bleeding .
One mistake. That’s all it takes.
He slams his fist into my gut, and I choke on impact. The ground shifts beneath me, and suddenly, I’m the one falling.
I hit the floor hard, gasping for air.
Then Amos is standing over me.
Towering.
He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving with exertion, but his eyes are still sharp with disgust.
Like I’m nothing.
He spits on the ground next to me. “Filthy bastardo. ”
BANG.
The disgust is frozen on his face as the bullet wound bleeds across his chest. I think it must be the shock that keeps him standing, for several long moments, he just continues to stare at me.
Finally, his eyes flicker up behind me, and he collapses.
Despite my protesting body, I scramble away, turning to face my savior.
Carmen’s beautiful, molten eyes are wide and tear-filled. Beautiful, even in their absolute horror.
A smoking gun is trembling in her hand.