Chapter Five

Emily

I wake up and look outside. It’s noon, by the looks of it. I stretch out, feeling the soft silk sheets beneath me, and blink up at the ceiling. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the intricate design of the chandelier above. Everything feels a little surreal, like I’m not quite grounded in reality.

The events of last night hit me all at once, and my face instantly heats up. Dante . I blush just thinking about how it ended—his hands on my body, the way he kissed me, the way I couldn’t resist him. My body still aches, but not in a bad way. It’s like a reminder of everything that happened, like I’m carrying the evidence of him with me.

I turn over in bed, clutching the sheets to my chest, my fingers grazing the spot where he had kissed me the hardest. The room is quiet, almost too quiet. I scan the space, expecting to see Dante standing somewhere, watching me. But he’s not here. I sit up and let out a soft sigh, feeling a bit disappointed, though I’m not sure why. What did I expect? For him to stay and watch me sleep?

I toss and turn for a few more minutes, not ready to leave the warmth of the bed just yet. The memories of last night flicker through my mind again. The feel of his lips, his hands, his presence. My body tingles at the thought, and I have to shake my head to clear it. This isn’t like me. I’m not the kind of girl who gets caught up in someone this quickly. And yet, here I am, unable to stop thinking about Dante.

Finally, I decide to get up. I’m still wearing one of his shirts, the fabric soft against my skin, and it hangs loosely on me, barely covering my thighs. I pad barefoot across the room, feeling the cool marble floor under my feet as I make my way toward the door.

I’m sore in all the places he touched me. My muscles feel stretched, my skin sensitive. As I pass a mirror hanging on the wall, I catch a glimpse of myself and stop in my tracks. There, scattered across my neck, are small bruises, hickeys, dark against my pale skin. I touch one lightly and can’t help the smile that forms on my lips. They’re like little marks of possession, proof that last night happened.

I can’t wait to feel his hands on me again.

Pushing that thought aside, I slip out of the bedroom and start wandering through Dante’s penthouse. It’s massive, much bigger than I had realized the night before. Every room is a display of wealth and power—lavish furniture, high-end art pieces hanging on the walls, and polished floors that reflect the light. I walk past a massive living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city. Everything here is sleek, modern, and expensive.

But as I continue exploring, I start noticing the little things—hidden rooms behind sliding doors, and secret compartments built into the walls. I come across a room lined with shelves full of cash, stacks upon stacks of money. There are weapons, too—guns, knives, things I can’t even name—locked away in glass cases. In another room, I see a collection of vintage wines and cigars, some dating back decades.

I pause, staring at the weapons, and an uneasy feeling creeps into my chest. I knew Dante wasn’t just some regular guy, but this? It’s a whole other level. It makes me wonder if I can trust him. What kind of man needs an arsenal like this? What kind of life does he lead? The opulence, the hidden dangers—it’s all starting to feel overwhelming.

I’m about to turn away when I suddenly feel a presence behind me. My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze, heart pounding. I didn’t hear him come in.

“Dante?” I whisper, turning slowly. My heart races as I feel his presence before I even see him. His broad figure leans against the doorframe, watching me with those dark, intense eyes. His expression is unreadable, as always, but there’s something in the way he looks at me that sends a shiver down my spine.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around like this,” he says, his voice deep, laced with authority.

I swallow hard, gripping the hem of his oversized shirt that I’m still wearing. “I... I didn’t see you when I woke up. I just—” I stop myself, not sure what I was looking for. An explanation? Him?

He pushes off the doorframe and moves toward me, his steps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey. “You don’t need to look for me, Principessa. I’ll always be here.” His voice softens slightly at the last part, and there’s that word again—principessa—the way he says it makes something warm bloom in my chest. I feel exposed, standing here barefoot in his shirt, my body still aching in the places he touched last night.

“I— I didn’t mean to pry,” I stammer, looking away, my cheeks heating.

“You weren’t prying.” He reaches out, his fingers grazing my arm. It’s a simple touch, but it sends electricity through me. I shiver, my breath hitching as I meet his gaze again. There’s something unspoken between us, something that we both feel but neither of us can name.

For a moment, we just stand there, the air thick with tension. Then he steps back, his face hardening again. “Come, you need clothes.”

I blink, caught off guard. Clothes? He leads me down the hall without another word, taking me into a room that looks like a walk-in closet straight out of a high-end fashion magazine. Dresses, designer shoes, handbags—I feel like I’ve stumbled into a world I don’t belong in.

“These are for you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to offer someone a wardrobe worth more than most people’s houses. “Pick whatever you like.”

I turn to him, wide-eyed. “Dante, I can’t wear these. This... this is too much.”

He tilts his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You can and you will. I told you, Principessa, I take care of what’s mine.” His words send a thrill through me, but they also confuse me. I’m not his. Am I?

I feel a strange mixture of emotions—gratitude, confusion, and something else. Something more dangerous. “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly, meeting his gaze. “Why me?”

His expression doesn’t change. “Because I want to.” There’s finality in his tone as if that’s all the explanation I need. But it doesn’t satisfy me.

He brings me clothes, everything luxurious and expensive, things I never thought I’d wear in my life. He spoils me in ways I can’t comprehend—watches, perfumes, shoes. But it’s not just the material things. It’s the way he watches over me, the way he calls me principessa in that soft, possessive voice. Like I’m precious to him.

“Are you always this generous?” I ask one evening as we sit in the dimly lit dining room. He had ordered food—something Italian, of course. It was delicious, but I barely tasted it, my mind too preoccupied with him.

His eyes flicker with amusement as he leans back in his chair. “Only with people who matter.”

I look down at my plate, my heart doing strange things in my chest. “I don’t understand you.”

He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. It’s a small gesture, but it sends warmth through me. “You don’t need to understand, Emily. You just need to trust me.”

I bite my lip, staring at his hand on mine. “And what if I can’t? What if I don’t belong in your world?”

There’s a silence that stretches between us. His hand tightens over mine. “My world is dangerous,” he admits, his voice low. “But you’re safer with me than anywhere else. I promise you that.”

I want to believe him. I want to trust him. But every time I think about the weapons I saw, the stacks of cash, the hidden rooms... I’m reminded of just how dangerous his world is. And I don’t know if I can survive in it.

Still, there’s something about him, something that draws me in despite my better judgment. He makes me feel safe, even though I know I shouldn’t feel that way. I know I should keep my distance, but when he’s close, like now, it’s impossible.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says, his voice softer now. “I’ll protect you, Principessa.”

His words make my chest tighten. There’s a part of me that wants to believe him, to trust him. But another part of me knows that being close to Dante means stepping into his world—a world I’m not sure I’m ready for.

Chapter Six

Dante

I sit on the edge of the bed, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Emily is in the next room, probably getting ready for bed or reading some book she found on the shelf. She always seems so calm; I don’t know how she does it. I, on the other hand, am losing my damn mind. Every day that passes, every time I see her, it gets harder and harder to keep my distance.

Here I am, sitting in the dark, thinking about her in ways I shouldn’t. The way she looks at me with those wide, innocent eyes… it does something to me. It makes me want to protect her, to keep her safe from everything, including myself. But at the same time, I want her in ways that I can’t control.

There’s a knock on the door, soft and hesitant. My heart skips a beat. I know it’s her.

“Dante?” Her voice is quiet, almost nervous.

I get up and open the door, and there she is, standing in one of my shirts, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks up at me, and for a moment, I can’t move. Can’t breathe.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.

She bites her lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admits. “I just... I don’t know, I guess I wanted to see you.”

Her words hit me harder than they should. I step aside, letting her in, and she walks past me, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor.

She turns back to me, her eyes meeting mine. “I feel... safe with you,” she says softly like she’s confessing some deep truth.

That does it. I can’t hold back anymore. In two strides, I’m in front of her, my hands gripping her arms, pulling her close. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away. She never does. She trusts me. And that’s what scares me the most.

I lower my head, my lips hovering over hers. “Emily,” I whisper, my voice strained. “I won’t be able to restrain myself this time.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t move. Instead, her hands come up, resting lightly on my chest. “I know,” she whispers back. “I don’t want you to.”

That’s all it takes. My mouth crashes into hers, and suddenly, I’m lost. Lost in her. The kiss is hungry, desperate, like we’ve both been holding back for too long. My hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, and she gasps against my lips, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt.

I pull back just enough to look at her, my forehead resting against hers. “Are you sure?” I ask, my voice barely more than a growl. “I need you to be sure, Emily.”

She nods, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps. “I’m sure,” she whispers, her hands tightening on my shirt.

That’s all the permission I need.

I scoop her up in my arms, carrying her to the bed. I lay her down gently, my hands moving to unbutton the shirt she’s wearing. I have to force myself to go slow, to be gentle. This is her first time, and I’m not going to hurt her.

“Dante...” she whispers, her voice trembling, but there’s no fear in it. Just anticipation.

I kiss her again, softer this time, my hands sliding up her sides, feeling every curve of her body. She arches beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to lose myself completely.

When I finally pull back, her shirt is on the floor, and she’s looking up at me with wide, trusting eyes. My chest tightens at the sight. She’s so fucking beautiful. And she’s giving herself to me. Completely.

I kiss her neck, and her collarbone, moving lower with each kiss. Her breath hitches, and I can feel her heart racing beneath my lips. I take my time, exploring every inch of her, wanting to memorize the way she feels, the way she tastes.

When I finally reach her breasts, she gasps, her back arching off the bed. I take one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, and her hands fly to my shoulders, holding on like she’s afraid she’ll fall apart if she lets go.

“Dante...” she moans, her voice soft and breathless.

“You like that, baby?” I ask.

She nods, and moans again when I move my fingers over her nipple, adding just a bit of pressure. “God,” she breathes out, barely able to get the words out.

I move lower, kissing my way down her stomach, until I’m between her legs. I can feel her trembling beneath me, but she’s not scared. She’s ready. And so am I.

The way she responds to me has my cock harder than hell, had the tip wet with pre-cum, and my balls drawn up tight. Dirty, filthy fucking images slam into my head, a mental image of her beneath me her legs spread, and every part of her ready for me.

She’d be moaning for my cock, pleading for me to fuck her good and hard.

I lower my head, pressing my tongue against her clit, and she gasps, her hips lifting off the bed. I take my time, teasing her, tasting her, until she’s writhing beneath me, her hands gripping the sheets.

“Please...” she moans, her voice desperate. “Please, Dante...”

I rub her clit, and move my fingers down to her entrance, but don’t penetrate her just yet, just tease the opening. “How does that feel?”

“It feels so good,” she says.

I continue to squeeze her breast with my hand, the mound soft and giving.

“Yes, it does,” I say pressing my hips into her a little harder, and she grips my bicep, digging her nails into my flesh.

I don’t stop until she’s falling apart, her body trembling, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. When she finally relaxes, I move up to kiss her again, her taste still on my lips.

An involuntary gasp leaves her when my dick is pressed against her slick folds, the base of my cock rubbing along her clit.

“Fuck,” I groan against her mouth, but then break the kiss and go back to her breasts. “You’re so fucking wet for me, you’re soaking my dick.”

She lifts her hips, grinding her pussy on my cock, nervousness slams into her when I reach between our bodies and place the tip of my rigid cock at her entrance.

“I’m not even in you yet and you already feel so fucking incredible,” I say the muffled, harsh words against her mouth.

I run my lips along hers in a slow, sexual glide.

“Put your legs around my waist.”

She does just that and gasps as we press even closer together, the tip of my dick getting lodged inside of her body.

Holding my gaze with hers, my hands on either side of her head, bracing my big body over hers, I start pushing into her inch after agonizingly slow inch.

The thick head of my shaft stretches her opening, making this wicked shiver travel throughout her entire body.

I work myself in and out, only penetrating her with the tip, easing her into the feel of being stretched by the wide head of my cock, or maybe because I like the idea of prolonging this.

“Relax for me, Principessa.”

She relaxes, not realizing how tense she’d grown. I pull out until my tip is almost out of her, and then in one swift, consuming move, I bury all of myself into her pussy. Searing, white-hot pain and pleasure has her crying out.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” I say, repeating the words over and over, my eyes closed, my jaw locked tight. Her inner muscles clench around me of their own accord, causing deep, whisper-like moans and curses to come from me.

I can see that intense stretching soon fades as the pleasure takes its place. She strokes her hands down my back, feeling my muscles clench and tense beneath her fingertips.

Never taking my eyes off of her pussy, I start moving in and out of her, slow at first but gradually picking up speed. The sounds that come from me are animal-like, but luckily, she is not exactly being quiet either.

The pleasure turns to something darker, more carnal, and before I know it she lifts her hips to meet my thrusts, needing me as deep as I can go, wanting her pussy filled all the way. I let my gaze travel down to her tits and feel my arousal grow tenfold at the way they bounce with each thrust,

“Dante,” she says my name on a moan and tilts her head backwards.

“You feel so fucking good. You’re so tight and wet.” I say as I slam into her hard, and her eyes roll back as ecstasy claims her.

“Dante!” she manages to call out again.

“Say my name again,” I grunt out.

“Dante, God, Dante.”

Over and over I work my cock into her, hitting a sensitive spot inside of her repeatedly, feeling my thick heat move through her. And then I slam into her so hard she moves up an inch on the bed. The climax that claims her is swift, body-numbing.

I’m so close now; I continue pushing into her at a slower, calmer pace as she rides out her climax.

“Fuck, Princess, I can’t hold it in much longer” She wraps her legs tighter around my waist and I explode before collapsing on top of her.

For a long time, we lie there in silence, her body curled against mine, her breathing slowly evening out. I should feel satisfied, but I don’t. Because this isn’t just about sex. Not anymore. I care about her. More than I should. More than I can afford to.

And that terrifies me.

I don’t know how I’m going to keep her in my life without putting her in danger. My world is dark and dangerous, and there’s no place for someone like her in it. But the thought of letting her go... I can’t do it. I won’t.

As I lie there, holding her close, I realize something that scares the hell out of me.

I’m falling for her. And I don’t know how to stop.

Chapter Seven

Emily

I wake up in Dante’s arms, my body still tangled with his, the sheets warm and soft against my skin. His breathing is steady, and slow, and for a moment, I let myself bask in the feeling of his warmth. Last night was…a lot. Even now, my body feels the lingering effects of it—every touch, every kiss, every moment was raw and powerful. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and the fact that it was with Dante makes it all the more overwhelming.

I close my eyes for a second, remembering the way he moved, the way he handled me with both a careful gentleness and a fierce passion. It was like he was holding back and letting go all at once. My heart skips a beat just thinking about it, and I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. I never thought I’d be in this situation, but here I am, wrapped up in the sheets with the most dangerous man I’ve ever met, and I’m falling for him. Hard.

Dante shifts slightly, pulling me closer in his sleep, his arms tightening around my waist like he’s afraid to let me go. I smile, feeling safe, something I haven’t felt in a long time. Around Dante, everything feels different. I know his world is dangerous, but there’s this unshakable sense of security when I’m with him. Nothing can touch me as long as I’m by his side.

I don’t know how it happened, or when exactly I started to fall for him, but it’s undeniable now. I can feel it in every fiber of my being. This pull towards him, this need to be close to him. It’s more than just lust—it’s something deeper, something I can’t quite put into words.

Eventually, Dante stirs awake, his eyes meeting mine with a soft, sleepy smile. “Morning, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. His hand brushes the hair out of my face, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“Morning,” I whisper back, my heart fluttering at the simple, intimate gesture.

We lay there for a few more moments, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, before Dante eventually pulled away and stretches. “Come on,” he says, “let’s shower.”

I bite my lip, feeling a tinge of excitement as we make our way to the bathroom. The shower is steamy, and being this close to Dante, feeling the water cascade down our bodies as we wash away the remnants of last night, feels both calming and sensual. His hands glide over my skin, and it takes everything in me not to let things escalate again. But for now, we keep it simple, and by the time we step out, I feel refreshed and oddly at peace.

“I’ll be in my office for a bit,” Dante says, pulling on a shirt as he stands by the door. “You should get dressed. I’ll find something for us to eat later.”

I nod, watching as he leaves the room. There’s this lingering tension in the air, this unspoken connection between us that I can’t shake. As I towel off and slip into one of his shirts, I realize just how much I don’t want this feeling to go away.

I take my time getting ready, trying to shake off the overwhelming emotions from last night. Once I’m dressed, I start looking for Dante again, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere. The house is massive, and I’m still not entirely familiar with all the rooms and hallways, so I wander for a bit, aimlessly opening doors.

When I push open one door I haven’t noticed before, I step inside what looks like an office. It’s dark and lined with expensive, polished furniture, much like the rest of the house. But something feels off. My gaze drifts over to a wall where multiple screens are lit up, and I freeze.

Cameras.

There are cameras everywhere.

I step closer, my eyes scanning the feeds. They’re all trained on different parts of the house—specifically, the areas where I’ve been spending most of my time. My heart drops into my stomach as I watch the screens, each one showing a different angle of where I’ve been walking, sleeping, and even showering.

What the hell?

Rage and embarrassment flood through me as I realize what this means. Dante has been watching me. Monitoring my every move. It feels like a violation like my privacy has been ripped away without my knowledge or consent. I can’t believe he would do something like this.

Suddenly, I hear a noise behind me, and I whip around to see Dante standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“What the hell is this?” I demand, my voice shaking with anger as I gesture towards the screens.

Dante’s eyes flick to the cameras, and his jaw tightens. “They’re for your protection,” he says flatly, stepping into the room like this isn’t a big deal.

“Protection?” I scoff, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “This is creepy, Dante! You’ve been watching me this whole time without telling me? You had cameras in every part of the house I’ve been in!”

“I had to make sure you were safe,” he says, his voice low and controlled, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “I can’t afford to let anything happen to you, Emily. Not in my world.”

I shake my head, unable to process what he’s saying. “So your solution is to spy on me? To treat me like some kind of... prisoner?”

He steps closer, his eyes dark and cold. “You don’t understand how dangerous things are, Emily. I did what I had to do.”

His words hang in the air between us, thick with tension. My breath becomes unsteady, my chest tightening with fury and something else—something that terrifies me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have trusted him?

“I need air,” I mutter, turning on my heel and storming out of the office.

“Emily—” Dante calls after me, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

I feel suffocated, like the walls of this mansion are closing in on me. All I can think about is how desperately I need to get out, how wrong this all feels. I thought I could trust him, but now I’m not so sure. The cameras, the control, the way he’s been watching my every move—it’s too much.

I manage to slip out of the house, past the cameras and the eyes that have been following me, and I run. I don’t know where I’m going, but I just need to escape. To breathe.

But I don’t get far.

Before I can make it down the driveway, I’m grabbed from behind. A sharp pain explodes at the back of my head, and everything goes dark.

When I wake up, I’m in a dark room, tied to a chair. My head is pounding, and my vision is blurry, but I can make out the outline of someone standing in front of me. Panic surges through me as I realize what’s happening—I’m being kidnapped.

I try to struggle, but the ropes around my wrists are tight, cutting into my skin. My heart races as I try to remember how I got here, but everything is a blur. The last thing I remember is trying to run, trying to get away from Dante’s suffocating grip.

Now, I’m in the hands of someone else, and I have no idea what they want with me.

Chapter Eight

Dante

I sit at my desk, staring at the screens, the same ones Emily found earlier. The same ones that drove a wedge between us. I knew the second she saw them that she’d feel betrayed and like I was controlling her. I could see it in her eyes—the confusion, the anger. And fuck, I get it. I do. But she doesn’t understand the world we’re in. She doesn’t understand that those cameras were the only way I could make sure she was safe, make sure nothing happened to her while I wasn’t by her side.

I rub my temples, the weight of everything sitting heavy on my shoulders. When she stormed out, and said she needed air, I should’ve followed her. But I didn’t. I gave her space, hoping she’d cool off and we could talk things through once she’d calmed down. I shouldn’t have waited. Now that decision is eating me alive.

I decide it’s time to find her. Time to apologize and explain. I want her to understand why I do the things I do, and why I need to keep her safe. But when I walk through the house, room after room, she’s not there. My heart starts pounding, a bad feeling settles deep in my gut. I check the usual places, call out her name, but the house is fucking silent.

My chest tightens as I move faster, checking every room, every fucking corner. She’s not here. I head outside, barely keeping my panic under control, and call the men I stationed nearby. They were supposed to watch the perimeter. No one gets in or out without them knowing. But when I ask them, they tell me they haven’t seen her leave.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl into the phone. “You’re telling me she just disappeared? You didn’t see a damn thing?”

There’s silence on the other end. Then, one of my men stutters, “Boss, we didn’t—”

I cut him off. “Get to the house. Now.”

My hand clenches into a fist as I hang up. I don’t waste any time and go straight to my office, to the cameras. My fingers fly over the keyboard, pulling up the footage from the last hour. My heart hammers in my chest as I rewind the tapes, scanning every frame. And then I see it.

My blood turns to ice.

A black SUV pulls up just outside the range of the cameras, barely visible. A couple of men get out, move quickly towards the house, and then I see her. Emily. She’s walking down the driveway, probably thinking she’s getting away from the cameras, from me. But they grab her. In seconds, they’ve shoved her into the SUV, and then they’re gone.

I slam my fist onto the desk, the rage boiling inside me, threatening to explode. I let her fucking leave. I gave her space, and now she’s gone. Kidnapped. I grab my phone, barking orders to my men, telling them to trace the plates on the SUV and get me a fucking location. No one takes what’s mine and gets away with it. No one.

As I pace the room, my mind races. Who the fuck would dare touch her? Who’s got the balls to cross me like this? And then it hits me. Marco. That bastard. The whole time, it’s been him. The fucking traitor. My fists clench as the pieces start to fall into place, my mind racing with fury and disbelief.

I sit back down, staring at the CCTV footage, watching the scene unfold in front of me. My eyes narrow in on one of the men, barely visible in the grainy video. It’s the tattoo, barely peeking out from under his sleeve. A snake coiled around a dagger. Marco’s tattoo. The same placement, the same design, and suddenly, everything starts to make sense.

Marco. One of my oldest associates, someone who’s been by my side for years. He was at the auction, acting like he was helping me track down Emily’s uncle. He played the part perfectly, feeding me just enough bullshit to keep me chasing ghosts while he worked behind the scenes. The betrayal churns in my gut like acid.

I should’ve fucking known. The whispers about a traitor within my ranks, the way things didn’t add up. I’d ignored it, thinking it was just another ploy to stir up shit, but now... now I see the truth. Marco’s been feeding information to the enemy, helping them take Emily. He’s been playing both sides, working with her uncle to set this whole thing up.

I stand up, pacing the room, my rage boiling over. Marco thought he could outsmart me. He thought he could take what’s mine, use Emily as leverage, and come out unscathed. But he has no idea what’s coming for him.

“Not a fucking chance,” I growl under my breath.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I answer it without hesitation.

“Boss, we got a hit on the plates. The SUV’s registered to a warehouse on the outskirts of town,” one of my men says.

“Get the team ready,” I bark. “We’re going in.”

I hang up, my mind laser-focused on one thing—getting Emily back. And when I do, there’s going to be hell to pay.

The warehouse is a rundown shithole, hidden away from the main roads, just like the kind of place these assholes would use. My men and I move in quickly, surrounding the building, guns drawn. I don’t give a fuck about subtlety. I’m getting Emily back, and anyone who stands in my way is going to regret it.

We breach the door, storming inside, and immediately, shots ring out. The air fills with the sound of gunfire as we push through the narrow hallways, taking out anyone who crosses our path. I don’t care about the bodies piling up. All I care about is finding Emily.

Finally, we reach the main room, and there she is. Tied to a chair, looking worn out but unharmed. My heart clenches in my chest at the sight of her, but I don’t let it distract me. A man is standing next to her—her fucking uncle. The bastard who sold her off like she was nothing.

He sees me, and a smug smile crosses his face. “Dante,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I don’t give him the chance to say anything else. I raise my gun and shoot him in the knee, watching as he crumples to the ground, screaming in pain.

“You think you can take what’s mine?” I growl, my voice cold and lethal as I approach him. “You think you can cross me and walk away?”

He’s gasping for breath, his face twisted in agony, but I don’t give a fuck. He deserves worse than this. So much worse.

I move past him and untie Emily, my hands shaking slightly as I work the knots loose. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the fear and relief mixed in her gaze. She’s trembling, but she’s trying to stay strong.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, pulling her into my arms. “I’ve got you.”

She clings to me, burying her face in my chest, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The gunfire, the chaos—it’s all background noise. All that matters is that she’s safe.

But then I remember Marco. The traitor. The one who orchestrated all of this.

I hand Emily off to one of my men, telling him to take her back to the house. She needs to be somewhere safe while I deal with the rest of this mess. As she’s led away, I turn back to her uncle, who’s still writhing on the ground, blood pooling around him.

“You’re going to tell me where Marco is,” I say, my voice cold and hard. “And if you lie, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The bastard spits at me, but I don’t flinch. I raise my gun and shoot him again, this time in the shoulder. His scream echoes through the room.

“Start talking,” I demand, my patience wearing thin.

Through gritted teeth, he starts to speak, and I know I’ve got him. He gives me the location—another warehouse, deeper in the city. That’s where Marco’s hiding. That’s where I’ll find the traitor who thought he could outsmart me.

I leave her uncle on the ground, bleeding out. He’s not worth my time anymore. I’ve got bigger things to deal with now.