Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ALYSSA

M ade men stand around me in the cold warehouse; Brynne holds me even though I’m thoroughly checked out after tonight’s events.

“He’s going to live, though?” Slate asks the surgeon, who just came out from behind sheeting, covered in blood. Beyond the transparent curtains of plastic, machines whir and beep, giving the false sense we’re at a hospital.

“He will. I’d give him a few days before you try to prod at him. I don’t want him to code before you get anything out of him,” the surgeon replies, removing his cap and sighing.

We’ve been here for hours, waiting for the outcome as men cleaned up the fight scene outside.

I don’t look over at Dante. He must think me a fool. The way I’d pulled the gun out that Brynne had given me and then shrank into myself when the shots rang out.

It was so loud.

Gunshots in real life don't sound like they do on television, and I could have gone the rest of my life not knowing the difference.

“You alright?” Brynne asks for the millionth time. I can tell by the look in her eyes what she’s thinking. She’s thinking she dragged me here and that I’m not cut out for this world.

“I’m good. It was just a lot, and Dante just ran into the bullets... It was overwhelming,” I tell her.

She nods. “Completely understand.”

“I hid,” I admit to her as she walks me toward the door where a couple of couches are lined up, likely for the men who work long hours here, torturing, and whatever else they do.

“I think that’s normal, babe,” Brynne says, dropping beside me on the couch.

“Not for you. You ran to save Slate on that island, gunned down men to protect him.”

She sighs and turns toward me, grabbing my hands and squeezing them in hers. “Lyss, you don’t have to be me, though. I often do things the reckless way.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Slate says, coming up to us with a confident jaunt, his hands in his pockets. He’s wholly unaffected by tonight, and it’s further evidence that eventually, I would become desensitized to this world, too.

I don’t know if I want that.

Even though I want to be here for Brynne.

“Oh, girl, you’re spiraling. Don’t do that. This isn’t a normal occurrence,” Brynne adds.

“No, it’s not,” Dante says. “This is because of everything going on.”

Slate nods in agreement. “Yeah, someone’s making a move. They think we’re weak. That our defenses are down.”

“Wrong move,” Dante adds, sitting beside me and squeezing my knee. “You did so good, darling.”

I eye Slate with my cheeks reddening by the second, but he’s turned away, talking to Marco.

Brynne pats my other leg, moving away to give us privacy, but I want to grab her hand and tug her back.

Things with Dante feel a bit too raw tonight. A bit too real.

“How did I do good?” I ask, not looking at him.

My eyes fall on Marco as he’s dragging a body through the middle of the room, leaving a red trail behind him.

My life has become a television drama.

When I leaped at the chance to be with Brynne, I knew this would be our new reality, but I don’t think you understand the truth of something until you experience it. What had shaken me to my core was how worried I was for Dante.

That bothers me more than anything.

My tears were for him.

It feels like once I leave here, I will have to make a choice. Either start peeling away layers, lean into this life with him, or walk away fully, which means walking away from Brynne.

“You listened and stayed safe. This is how I was raised, Alyssa. This is scary, sure. But this is my reality, you understand? I’m a bit numb to it all, where you’re new to my world and the way things are. I told you to hide and stay safe, and you did that. You helped me do my job better because I wasn’t worried about you flying into the fray of bullets.”

His words sink through me like rocks, but they don’t fix any racing thoughts or overflowing feelings.

“I’ll be fine; I just need to take time to...” I wave my hand in the air, grasping for words.

“Process it,” he finishes for me. “It’s a lot. There’s no shame in working through the shock of it all. Shit, I had to the first time I had to shoot my gun.”

“Did you kill someone?” I ask him, finally turning and locking eyes with him.

The slightest bit of blood spattered on his skin makes him look all the more rugged.

He shakes his head, laughing. “I thought I did. I was young, though. I was only eighteen when I was made. In my mind, if I shot the gun, I dropped a body.”

I smile only because his is infectious, coaxing my lips to tip upward. “Was it a gunfight like tonight?”

“No. It was scary, but nothing like tonight. Your first initiation in this world is not the norm, so don’t go thinking this is how it is all the time, tesoro.”

“Will you tell me about it?” I ask him, hoping the idle banter will help calm me more.

“Later. Let’s get you home.”

I look around at all the commotion still going on, feeling a bit shitty for having to be the one who leaves when my job is to be beside Brynne.

“She’ll be fine. She told me to take you home an hour ago.”

I nod and gather my wits as he puts his hand on my back, leading us toward Slate to tell them we’re off.

Once we’re in the car, he opens my door, holding it for me. I look up at him as he leans down and works my seatbelt over me, lingering a bit to lean in and give me a light kiss.

“Don’t you need to stay?” I ask him, a bit breathless.

“I’m where I need to be,” he says, and the echo of his words is still resonating through my chest as we pull away, driving over blood stains on the concrete where the Ricci men held no bullets back from the fight tonight.

This world is one of darkness and blood, and I’m sure that even though Dante says otherwise, I just got the first taste of it.

And there’s a bitter aftertaste I know will linger.

I showered once we got home. Dante has been in his room. I assume he’s decompressing. After all the cake we had, I couldn’t think of eating a thing but made some tea and pushed the button to make the television spring from the end of the bed.

When I see the barest hint of light change outside the door, I stop blowing my tea and wait a beat as I watch the doorway.

Dante saunters in wearing low-slung sleep pants and no shirt. His tattoos are on full display, and I nearly forget the night we had altogether and say fuck the tea.

He hops onto the other side of the bed, tucking himself under the covers and laying back with one arm over his head. His eyes look far away, even pointed at the screen.

Sweet Home Alabama is playing because it’s one of my favorite movies, and it can get me out of any funk imaginable.

“Dante? Are you alright?”

I have no clue why he’s in bed with me; it’s not something we’ve done to date other than the one when he woke me up with his tongue.

He reaches between us, grabbing the remote. The movie pauses as I take a big sip of my camomile tea—I’ll need it.

“I was eighteen and only just made ,” he starts. I swallow another gulp down. “I was sent to collect rent from a few of the Ricci properties downtown, which is no big deal. I did it a million times before.”

I set my tea down and lay on my side to listen. I don’t know why he looks so glum, but I want to give him my full attention. Maybe my asking had prodded suppressed memories?

“That night was different?” I ask, prodding when he doesn’t go on.

He nods. “It was. The last stop was a pizza joint I frequented often with family and friends. I even took my first girlfriend there on a date once. The owner, Mr. Capelli, had always been kind any time I interacted with him. But that night, something was wrong. He was combative, angry that I was there to get his rent.”

I furrow my brows, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“You see, he had asked for an extension from the Don, and my showing up meant he’d been denied. While Slate’s father hadn’t thought Capelli would be an issue, he became one.”

“Oh no. Were you alone?”

“I was.”

A sour feeling twists in my stomach.

“He pulled his gun, but I pulled mine faster. I shot past his head, breaking a two-hundred-dollar bottle of red wine behind the bar, and it was enough to show him who was in charge. He lowered it and paid me in full. The thing that lives with me today, though, was he was ready to shoot me—a kid. There was so much desperation in his eyes that night. That’s what I keep with me daily. I’m always ready for the next desperate person to step into my path.”

“It must have been traumatic to grow up in this world.” I reach over and cup his face, deciding to start peeling back some of the pesky layers keeping this beautiful man at arm's length.

He turns into me. “I could’ve lost you tonight. It scared the shit out of me.”

I open my mouth to reply, and he covers it with a finger.

“I know. You’re going to say we’re nothing. But we are, so spout your bullshit to someone else who will listen.”

I grin behind his finger, which is still covering my mouth.

“The way I lost her, tesoro. I can’t…” He swallows, closing his eyes. “I can’t do it again. It’s selfish to keep you in this world when I want to tell you to fucking run, but the way I feel with you… It’s like I’m alive again. Like I’m me.”

Fuck.

I lift the covers, slide across the space between us, and snuggle into his body, wrapping around him in quiet strength as I let him be the same for me.

“You didn’t lose me. I’m right here,” I answer.

He wraps his massive arms around me and kisses my head.

“You need to stop fighting this and let me in.”

I nod against his warm chest, feeling the adrenaline leaving my body now that I know I’m safe.

I close my eyes and drink in the feeling, sleep nestling me in its arms as I hear Dante say, “I knew you were mine the moment I laid my eyes on you, Alyssa. I’ll fight the fucking world to remain beside you. I need you to get on the same page.”

I grin sleepily as I feel the heavy weight of exhaustion blanket me, knowing he’ll understand why I’ve fallen asleep instead of responding because that’s who Dante is.

He’s a good man.