6. CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SIX
Alina
The service hallway was dim, silent, and cold—a stark contrast to the chaos erupting just beyond the metal door. Alina’s pulse thundered in her ears, her fingers still curled around the flash drive as if it might burn her.
Dante stood in front of her, blocking the only exit, his expression carved from stone. “You’re coming with me,” he said.
Her breath hitched. “Dante, I didn’t ask for this.”
His voice was dangerously low. “It doesn’t matter. It found you. And you have no idea what ‘it’ is.” He advanced, and she retreated until her spine hit the unyielding wall. The hallway shrank to the space between their bodies. “Dante—”
“Give me your phone.”
“What? No—”
He held out his hand. “Alina.”
Her pulse tripped. She handed it over. He powered it off, removed the SIM card, snapped it cleanly in half, and dropped the pieces into a nearby trash bin.
She stared at him, stunned. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Keeping you alive.”
“That’s not—”
“Someone texted you,” he said. “Someone who knew you were there. Someone who knew you were a target before you did.”
Her stomach dropped. “You think the text was connected to this?”
“I know it was.”
She swallowed hard. “Dante… what is going on?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He stepped closer, bracing one hand on the wall beside her head. He wasn't touching her, but he was close enough that she felt the heat radiating off him, the sheer gravity of his presence.
“There’s a war,” he said quietly. “One you don’t see. One you were never supposed to see.”
Her breath caught. “A war?”
“Between my family and the Vescari.”
The name meant nothing to her—but the way he said it made her blood run cold.
“And that man,” Dante continued, “the one who gave you the flash drive? He wasn’t random. He wasn’t panicking. He was running.”
“From who?”
“From them.”
She swallowed. “And now they’re after me?”
“They will be,” Dante said. “If they know you have it.”
She looked down at the flash drive in her hand—small, cold, and impossibly heavy. “What’s on it?” she whispered.
“Evidence,” Dante said. “Enough to burn the Vescari to the ground.”
Her heart pounded. “Why give it to me?”
“He didn’t choose you,” Dante said. “He chose the closest person who looked like they wouldn’t be searched.”
Her stomach twisted. “So I’m just… collateral?”
His jaw tightened. “Not to me.”
She looked up sharply. His eyes were dark, intense, unreadable—but there was something else there, too. Something she didn’t have a name for yet.
“Dante,” she said softly, “I need to understand what’s happening.”
“You will,” he said. “But not here.” He reached for her hand—not grabbing, not forcing, but offering. “Come with me,” he said again. “Please.”
The word landed with more force than a gunshot. Please. It sounded foreign in his mouth—a crack in the armor of a man who commanded, who took, who never asked. It wasn’t a request; it was a concession, and the sound of it was deafening.
She hesitated—just long enough for fear to whisper that she should run, that she should scream, that she should get as far away from him as possible. But something deeper whispered back: He saved you. He came for you. He knew you were in danger before you did.
She placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers—warm, steady, unyielding.
“Good,” he murmured. “Stay close.”
He led her down the hallway, through a locked maintenance door, and into a restricted stairwell. They descended quickly, Dante’s hand finding each railing and door handle without looking, his feet already on the next step before the last one had settled.
At the bottom, he pushed open another door. A black SUV waited in the loading bay, engine running. Luca stood beside it, tense, alert, his hand resting near his concealed weapon.
“Boss,” Luca said. “We need to move. Now.”
Dante nodded. “Get in.”
Alina hesitated. “Where are we going?”
“A safe house,” Dante said. “Somewhere they can’t reach you.”
She swallowed. “And after that?”
He met her eyes. “After that,” he said, “we end this.”