The door clicked shut behind Amelia, the sound too final for her liking. Her chest tightened, and she pressed her back against it, trying to steady her breathing. The weight of Dante's words hung in the air, more suffocating than comforting.
Stay in your room. Don't open the door for anyone but me.
She had never seen him so cold, so distant. A man who had been her protector was now an enigma, a shadow of the person she thought she knew. The image of the man on the floor, bleeding and broken, lingered in her mind, and with it came the chilling thought that Dante wasn't just a mafia heir—he was a man who played with fire, who destroyed everything and anyone in his path.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Amelia's fingers toyed nervously with the edge of the letter from Victor Castellano. What had the man meant when he mentioned Milan? What was Dante hiding? And why couldn't he trust her with the truth?
The seconds stretched into minutes, and Amelia couldn't shake the unease that curled in her stomach. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the cryptic words once again. The content was dark, filled with veiled threats and promises of chaos if Dante didn't comply with Victor's demands. But there was something more, something buried beneath the surface of the words.
Amelia stood up and paced the room, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Her heart ached—not just for Dante, but for herself. She had always known he wasn't an ordinary man, that he carried a darkness with him. But she had never expected to feel this—this coldness, this sense of being trapped in a web she couldn't untangle.
There was a knock on the door.
Her heart leaped in her chest, and for a moment, she hesitated. Was it Dante? Or someone else?
The knock came again, louder this time.
She stood frozen, her mind racing. Dante had said not to open the door for anyone but him. But the voice that followed the knock wasn't Dante's—it was Matteo's.
"Mrs. Moretti, it's me, Matteo. Can we talk?"
Amelia's hand gripped the doorknob, her pulse quickening. She had always trusted Matteo he had been a loyal part of Dante's inner circle. But was it safe? Was it really Matteo on the other side of the door?
The silence stretched out again, her fingers still gripping the cold metal of the knob. Part of her wanted to trust him, but another part screamed for her to follow Dante's orders to stay hidden, to stay safe.
"Amelia," Matteo's voice called again, urgent this time. "Please, we need to talk. It's important."
She turned her back to the door and glanced at the window. The dark night outside mirrored her own thoughts—everything felt murky, uncertain. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to mock her, their ever-shifting shapes a reminder of the danger that loomed over them all.
But what if Matteo was telling the truth? What if he had information that Dante wasn't sharing? A part of her felt desperate for the answers, for the clarity that had eluded her since she entered this world.
With a deep breath, Amelia slowly stepped away from the door and walked toward the window. She had to make a choice—stay in the dark, or risk it all to find out the truth.
But as she reached the window, something caught her eye.
A figure stood just outside the gate, shrouded in the shadows. For a split second, she thought it was Dante, but the figure was too still, too silent.
Amelia's heart skipped a beat. It was someone else. Someone who was watching the house, waiting.
Her instincts kicked in. She couldn't stay locked in her room. Not with someone lurking outside.
The knocking on the door stopped, and silence enveloped the house once more. Amelia's fingers tightened around the letter in her hands as she tried to steady her breath. She needed to act—whatever the consequences. But how?
The figure outside turned, disappearing into the night.
Amelia's heart raced. This was no coincidence. She was being watched, and whoever was out there had to be connected to the threats against Dante. Maybe it was Victor's men, or worse, someone working for his rival.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the sound of footsteps approached the door. Amelia froze.
This time, the steps were heavy and deliberate. Not Matteo. Not anyone from the staff.
Dante.
She rushed to the door, but before she could open it, she heard his voice—low and commanding, yet filled with something she couldn't place.
"Amelia, open the door."
Her pulse surged at the sound of his voice, but her instincts screamed to hesitate. Could she trust him? Could she trust the man who had just sent her away from the chaos without a word of explanation?
She glanced at the window again. The figure was gone, but her mind was still racing with fear and doubt.
Slowly, Amelia opened the door, the cool air from the hallway rushing in. Dante stood there, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite read. There was a tension in the air, a charged silence between them.
"You shouldn't have opened the door," Dante said quietly, his gaze flicking toward her in warning.
"I—I saw someone outside," Amelia said, her voice trembling. "Someone was watching the house."
Dante's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he said nothing. He stepped past her, his posture tense, scanning the room as though he expected someone to jump out at him.
"You were right to be cautious," he said, but his voice held no warmth. "Victor's men aren't the only ones hunting me."
"What do you mean?" Amelia whispered, her chest tightening.
But Dante's response was cut short when the distant sound of a car engine rumbled outside, followed by the sharp ring of gunshots.
"Get down," Dante hissed, grabbing Amelia by the arm and pulling her to the floor.
The room erupted into chaos as the sounds of footsteps and shouting grew louder. It was no longer just about secrets or threats, it was about survival.
Amelia's pulse thudded in her ears as she clung to Dante, the weight of their reality crashing down on her.