The wall between us was back up. It was higher and colder than ever before. He stood across the kitchen, a stranger in the same body of the man who had held me all night.
"Dante, what is it?" I asked, my voice small. "You're scaring me."
"It's business," he said, his voice clipped and devoid of all emotion. He wouldn't look at me. "I need to make a call."
He walked past me, grabbing a jacket on his way out to the back deck, the glass door sliding shut behind him. He needed privacy. From me.
I stood alone in the kitchen, the mug of coffee growing cold in my hands. The warmth of the morning, the fragile peace we had found, was gone. It felt like he had ripped it away from me.
I wouldn't let him see how much it hurt. I poured the coffee down the sink, the bitter smell filling the air. I needed to do something. Anything to keep my hands and my mind busy.
I went upstairs to my room.
The sight of it was a shock. In the chaos of last night, I hadn't fully processed the damage. The mattress was slashed, feathers peeking out from the cuts. A beautiful crystal lamp was shattered on the floor. Bullet holes marred the expensive wallpaper. It was a violent reminder that the peace I had felt in Dante's arms was an illusion. Our world was not peaceful.
I started cleaning.
I picked up the larger pieces of the lamp, my hands careful to avoid the sharp edges. I straightened the books on my nightstand. I tried to push the heavy mattress back into place on the bedframe. It was a way to restore order, to feel some semblance of control when I had none.
I was on my hands and knees, picking up a fallen picture frame, when I felt his presence. I looked up.
Dante was standing in the doorway, watching me. He had finished his call. His face was a blank, unreadable mask.
His gaze swept over the room, taking in the destruction. Then his eyes landed on something in the corner.
Hector. My old teddy bear, sitting upright in an armchair, the only thing in the room that seemed untouched by the violence.
I followed his gaze, desperate to break the cold silence between us. I stood up and walked over to the chair, picking the bear up.
"He survived, at least," I said, trying for a light tone, for a joke. It fell flat in the tense air.
He didn't smile. His eyes were fixed on the bear with a strange, intense focus. "You should get rid of that," he said, his voice hard. "It's a child's toy."
His words stung. It felt like a deliberate attack, a way to hurt me.
"No," I said, hugging Hector tighter. "I'll never get rid of him. He's my guardian." A sad smile touched my lips as I stroked the bear's worn fur. "My mom even sewed a little secret pocket in his back for me when I was a kid. I used to hide all my treasures in it... plastic rings, secret notes from my friends." I let out a soft, nostalgic laugh. "He kept all my secrets."
The words hung in the air. I looked up at Dante. His face was a mask of conflict, his jaw tight, his eyes dark. My innocent joke seemed to hit him like a physical blow.
He was about to say something, his mouth opening slightly, when a sound from my nightstand made us both jump.
My phone.
I'd put it on the charger when I came up. Now, the screen lit up, bright and demanding. It was flooded with notifications. Missed calls and text messages.
And the first one, at the very top of the screen, in bold, clear letters, made my heart stop dead in my chest.
"Izzy, where are you? We need to talk about your bodyguard. URGENT. - Luca."