Matteo stepped out behind Dante, worry carved into the lines of his face.
"Boss… give me two minutes to call in backup."
"No." Dante adjusted his cuffs. "Backup makes noise. Tonight I need silence."
"Marco isn't the same man you grew up with."
Dante's smile was thin, dangerous.
"He never was."
He pushed through the echoing foyer doors, his steps measured, a predator walking into another predator's den.
Inside, the villa smelled of cigars and sandalwood. A slow violin played from hidden speakers. Everything was polished to luxury dark marble, imported furniture, gold accents but beneath it lingered a stench of corruption Dante knew too well.
Marco Ricci waited in the dining hall, sitting at the long table as though presiding over an execution. A glass of red wine twirled between his fingers, the deep crimson glowing like blood under candlelight.
"Dante," Marco purred, smiling as if greeting an old friend instead of a rival. "You look tired. Rough night?"
Dante didn't sit. "Take your shot at me, Marco. Not at her."
"Her?" Marco raised a brow. "You mean Aria Lane? The orphan with no money, no power, no world of her own? Why… does she mean something to you?"
Dante's jaw ticked. That was answer enough.
Marco laughed softly. "I warned you long ago. Attachments make men stupid."
"You wouldn't understand loyalty even if you carved it into your skin."
Marco set the wine down. "Oh, don't be dramatic. Last night's ambush was simply… business."
"You call selling my location to hired killers business?"
Marco shrugged. "A test. A reminder. You're growing too comfortable. A little fear sharpens the mind."
"Try fear on someone who has something to lose," Dante said coldly. "I don't."
Marco's eyes gleamed. "No? Then why did you shield the girl with your own body?"
Dante didn't blink.
Marco leaned back. "Let's talk plainly."
"You owe me," Dante said. "For the alliance our families pretend still exists. For the years I kept your brother breathing. For every debt that piled up since we were children."
Marco waved a hand, bored. "The past is a dying currency."
"You're right," Dante said. "Tonight, I'm collecting in blood."
Marco's smile vanished.
Silence stretched through the hall, thick enough to choke on.
Then Marco exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
"You didn't come here just to threaten me."
"No." Dante stepped forward. "I came to offer a bargain."
Marco's brows lifted. "A bargain? You?"
"You want power," Dante said. "I want war."
His eyes glinted like a blade. "I'm offering you the first strike."
Marco blinked, caught off-guard. "You're not stupid enough to start a war in the city. The Commission will crush you both."
"The Commission can only stop what it sees. I'm offering you a shadow war. Quiet. Surgical."
Dante's voice dropped to a low, lethal murmur.
"Give me the name of the traitor who funded last night's ambush… and I'll give you something you want even more."
"And what," Marco asked, "could you possibly offer me?"
"Aria."
The name cracked like lightning between them.
Marco sat up, smile sharpening. "Now that… interests me."
Dante's fingers curled into a fist.
"You don't get to touch her," he said. "You get access."
Marco's eyes gleamed. "Access?"
"To her… connections."
Marco frowned. "She's a nobody."
Dante tilted his head. "Is she? You think I signed a contract with an orphan for fun?"
His voice turned silk and poison. "Dig deeper, Marco. She's more valuable than both of us thought."
Marco studied him, suspicion narrowing into hunger.
"You're hiding something."
"I'm offering you an opportunity," Dante corrected.
"You tell me who betrayed me. I give you a role in the contract. We both get what we want. Quietly."
Marco rose, walking toward Dante until they were inches apart.
"Why do you care so much about her?"
"Because she's the only thing Marco Ricci wants that he can't have."
Dante smirked. "And control over your desires is more valuable than control over your men."
Marco's eyes flashed with dangerous amusement. "You think you're using me."
"I know I am."
Marco studied him for a long, tense moment.
Then, finally:
"There is a traitor. But he wasn't from my side."
"Who was it?"
Marco smiled wickedly. "Your side, caro. Someone very close to you."
Dante's chest tightened. "Name."
"Rafael Salvi."
Dante's expression didn't change but the air around him did. It darkened. Thickened.
Rafael. His cousin. His childhood friend. His right hand before Matteo.
Marco savored the moment. "You didn't know?"
Dante's voice was ice. "He wouldn't betray me."
"Oh, but he did. And for a lovely price." Marco tapped his wine glass. "Your throne."
Dante inhaled, slow and lethal. "If you're lying..."
"I don't need to lie. Your empire is breaking itself apart."
Marco leaned close.
"Be careful whom you trust, Dante. Maybe the girl with emerald eyes isn't the only piece on your board worth watching."
Dante's temper ripped through the room like a silent storm.
But he didn't strike.
Not yet.
"Is this your bargain?" Dante asked.
"No."
Marco's smile widened. "The bargain is this: you give me Aria's potential… and you walk away with Rafael's head."
Dante stared at him.
Marco added softly, "Unless you'd rather I go to her directly?"
That snapped the last thread of Dante's restraint.
He grabbed Marco by the collar, slamming him against the wall so hard the chandelier trembled.
Marco choked on laughter.
"Careful," Marco gasped. "Your temper is showing."
Dante's voice rumbled like thunder.
"You go near her, you breathe near her, you speak her name with that filthy mouth
and I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the river."
Marco raised his hands, giving a mocking little shrug.
"So possessive.
I wonder… does she know?"
Dante shoved him away and walked out without another word.
Aria paced the living room, unable to rest. She replayed every moment from the villa ambush, her fear mixing with something more confusing:
The way Dante shielded her.
The way he looked at her.
The way his voice had broken, just for a second, when he asked her to stay.
She hated the tension that curled in her stomach at the thought of him.
The worst part wasn't that he was dangerous.
It was that danger felt… magnetic around him.
The elevator chimed, and Dante stepped inside the penthouse storm-soaked, eyes sharp, tension rolling off him like heat.
Aria rushed toward him. "Are you hurt?"
He didn't answer immediately. He just stared at her really stared as though he wasn't sure if she was real.
Then he exhaled.
"No," he said finally. "But everything just changed."
Her pulse fluttered. "Dante… what happened?"
He walked past her, shrugging off his coat. His movements were rigid, coiled, as if violence still simmered under his skin.
"Marco gave me a name."
"Of the traitor?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
He looked at her.
And the look alone told her the truth was a blade he didn't want to hand her.
"Dante?" she whispered.
His voice came out low, broken at the edges.
"Rafael."
Aria's breath caught. "Your cousin? Matteo's brother?"
"Yes."
"Dante… I'm so sorry. That must...."
He cut her off with a small shake of his head.
"No. I don't need sympathy. I need clarity."
He approached her slowly, each step deliberate.
"Marco wants something," Dante said. "A bargain. And you're part of it."
She stiffened. "Me? Why?"
His jaw clenched. "Because you're leverage."
Her eyes widened. "What kind of leverage?"
"The kind that keeps men like Marco obedient."
His gaze locked onto hers. "You're my contract. My shield. My choice. And Marco wants access to you."
"Access?" Aria paled. "Dante.."
"I won't let him touch you," Dante said, voice low, fierce, possessive.
"But to get what we need…"
She stared at him, unable to breathe.
"You… offered me to him?"
"No." His voice sharpened. "Not you. Your name. Your presence. A political illusion."
Her chest tightened. "An illusion is still dangerous."
"Yes," Dante said. "Everything about this world is dangerous. That's why you need to listen carefully."
He stepped closer, close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath.
"I'm going after Rafael. And Marco. And anyone else who thinks they can use you against me."
His voice dropped.
"But I need you to trust me. Completely."
"How can I," Aria whispered, "when you keep deciding my fate without asking me?"
Silence fell.
Dante's jaw tightened.
Then...
"You're right."
She blinked. "What?"
"You're right," he repeated.
The admission felt heavy. Rare.
Even Matteo had never heard Dante say those words.
He lifted a hand, hesitated, then touched a strand of her auburn hair, letting it slip through his fingers.
"This is your choice," he said quietly. "Not mine."
She swallowed hard. "My choice?"
"Yes."
His silver eyes pinned her in place.
"You can walk away from this world now. Leave the contract. Leave the danger. Leave me."
Her heart hammered painfully.
"Or," Dante continued, "you stay. You become the shield Marco fears. The woman who stands beside me… even if it puts a target on your back."
Her breath trembled.
"That's not fair," she whispered. "It's a life or death choice."
"All bargains are," Dante murmured. "Especially mine."
Their faces were inches apart now.
She could feel the heat of his body.
The tension rolling off him.
The storm inside him barely held together.
"Aria Lane," Dante said, voice soft but devastating.
"Do you stay… or do you walk away?"
The city hummed outside the windows.
The rain tapped softly like a countdown.
She looked at him this dangerous man who shouldn't care but did.
Who shouldn't protect her but did.
Who shouldn't have a heart but somehow still bled.
Aria inhaled shakily.
Then she said...