Amelia's heart pounded in her chest as Dante pulled her down to the floor, his body covering hers protectively. The gunshots outside echoed, a constant reminder of the danger that was closing in. Her breath came in shallow bursts, each one matching the rapid beat of her heart.
Dante's arm was like a vice around her waist, holding her close, but his eyes were elsewhere—alert, calculating, and dangerous. His grip tightened on his gun, his fingers flexing with tension.
"Stay down," he ordered in a low voice, his breath heavy. "Do not move unless I say so."
Amelia barely nodded, her mind racing. She could hear shouting from outside the house, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the walls. She could feel the walls vibrating as if the house itself was caught in the middle of a storm.
Every instinct screamed at her to do something—to escape, to fight back, to help—but Dante's words and the weight of his body on top of hers held her frozen. She felt the heat of his body, the raw tension between them, but there was no time to think about that now. There was only the cold, hard reality of the situation they were in.
The sounds outside grew louder, the shouts turning into more frantic commands, and Amelia couldn't help but imagine the chaos unfolding just beyond the walls. Were they here for Dante? For her? Or both?
A sudden crash of glass shattered the tension in the room, and Amelia's head whipped toward the window. A figure appeared, silhouetted against the dim light of the moon, moving quickly, too quickly to be an ally.
Dante's grip tightened around her, pulling her even closer as he placed his finger on his lips. "Quiet," he whispered urgently, his face close to hers, his breath hot against her skin. "We're not alone. Stay silent, stay hidden."
Amelia nodded, her body stiff with fear. She had never been in a situation like this before—never imagined that her life would come to this, where survival was a split-second decision, where every move could be the difference between life and death.
The sound of footsteps—heavy and deliberate—grew louder, coming closer with each passing second. Amelia's throat constricted. She tried to breathe steadily, but it was hard with her heart hammering in her chest.
Dante shifted, his eyes darting to the door. He was tense, calculating, and in that moment, Amelia saw something more than the ruthless mafia heir she'd come to know. She saw the man who fought not only for control of his world but for the people he loved. The man who was now fighting for her life, too.
The door to the room creaked as it swung open. Amelia barely dared to breathe, her body trembling against Dante's as they both held their breath.
A figure stepped into the room, his movements cautious but confident. Amelia's eyes widened in shock as she recognized the man.
Matteo.
"Boss, we've got a problem," Matteo said, his voice low but urgent. "They're in the house. We need to move, now."
Dante's jaw clenched. Without hesitation, he pushed himself off of Amelia, pulling her up with him.
"Go," Dante barked, his voice firm as he grabbed his gun from the table and checked it. "Get her to the safe room. I'll handle this."
Matteo nodded, but his eyes were filled with worry. "It's not just the Castellanos. It's bigger. You've got enemies, Dante, and they're making their move tonight. Victor is just the beginning."
Amelia felt the blood drain from her face as she struggled to process Matteo's words. Bigger enemies? Who else could be after them?
But before she could voice her thoughts, Dante gripped her arm, pulling her toward the door. "No time for questions. Move."
She stumbled after him, the urgency in his voice pushing her forward. They hurried through the hallway, the sounds of chaos growing louder. The air felt thick with danger, and the world outside their small bubble seemed to have turned into a battleground.
Matteo was right behind them, his steps swift and silent. As they reached the end of the hallway, Dante pulled open a hidden door in the wall, revealing a narrow staircase that descended into the darkness below. It was the same safe room he had mentioned once, but Amelia never imagined she'd be seeing it like this—desperate, with fear clouding every inch of the space.
Dante looked over his shoulder. "Go. Stay hidden until I tell you it's safe."
Amelia didn't hesitate. She knew better than to argue. She sprinted down the stairs, her breath coming in quick gasps. As soon as she reached the bottom, she turned to look up, but the door was already closing behind her.
She was alone.
The safe room was small, dimly lit, and stocked with enough supplies to last for days if needed. But it wasn't the food or the water that made her stomach churn. It was the isolation. The silence. The waiting.
For the first time, Amelia felt completely out of control. Dante was up there, facing God only knew what danger, while she was locked away like a prisoner in her own home. She sat down on the cold concrete floor, her back against the wall, and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath.
Her thoughts turned to Dante. What was he up against? What kind of enemies were they really facing? And what had Matteo meant when he said this was bigger than the Castellanos?
The only thing she knew for sure was that this night was far from over. And by the time it was, nothing would be the same.
Minutes stretched into hours, or so it seemed. The noise from upstairs had faded, replaced by an eerie quiet that made her jump at every sound. It felt like an eternity, though she had no idea how long it had actually been.
Then, suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs opened. Footsteps echoed down the hall, slow and deliberate, growing louder as they approached.
Amelia's heart stopped in her chest.
Dante.
The footsteps stopped at the entrance to the room, and for a moment, everything was silent. Amelia's breath caught in her throat.
"Amelia," came Dante's voice, low and strained. "It's safe. Come out."
She didn't move. The last time he'd told her to stay safe, it had been with an air of finality. She needed to know this was real.
"Amelia," he called again, his tone softer this time. "It's over. You're safe."
Reluctantly, Amelia stood up, her legs unsteady as she moved toward the door. She pushed it open, her eyes immediately locking with Dante's. The coldness had returned to his expression, but there was something else, something she couldn't quite place.
It was the quiet after the storm. And the storm was far from over.