Amelia stepped out of the safe room, the cool air of the house a stark contrast to the damp, confined space she had just left. Her feet moved slowly, hesitantly, as if the weight of the night had drained every ounce of strength from her body. She could hear Dante's steady breath in the dim light, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.
She was scared. But not in the way she expected. It wasn't the danger or the gunfire that rattled her; it was the man standing in front of her, the man who had shown a side of himself that left her feeling lost and uncertain.
Dante's eyes were hard, unreadable. His face was smeared with dirt and the faint trace of blood, but it was his eyes that haunted her. They were distant—cold, almost devoid of the warmth she had once seen in them. The man who had kissed her with passion, the man who had held her close in moments of tenderness, seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a figure she couldn't quite grasp.
She couldn't bring herself to speak. Words felt inadequate, fragile in the face of everything that had happened. Instead, she lowered her gaze, staring at the floor, trying to steady her breathing. The silence stretched between them like a vast chasm, pulling them further apart with every passing second.
Dante said nothing. He didn't push her to speak, didn't reach out to her. He simply stood there, watching her. His presence was heavy, like a storm waiting to break, but he kept his distance, as though giving her space to process whatever it was she was feeling.
Amelia couldn't stay like this. The silence was unbearable, suffocating. But she didn't know how to bridge the gap between them. How could she? Everything had changed in a matter of hours, and now, she was standing here, in the same house, but with the overwhelming sense that she was no longer part of this world.
Finally, she broke the silence, though her voice came out in a barely audible whisper. "What happened, Dante?"
His eyes flickered briefly to hers, and for a split second, she saw a flash of something—anger, frustration, maybe regret—but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening.
"You don't need to know," he replied, his voice clipped, sharp. The words were a wall, a barrier he put up to keep her out. But there was something in the way he said it, something raw in his tone, that made Amelia's heart ache.
She wanted to press him, to ask about the threats, the enemies closing in on them, but she knew better. There were things Dante would never tell her—things that would never be a part of her world, no matter how much she wanted to understand him.
Instead, she took a slow step back, instinctively distancing herself. Her eyes darted to the hallway, to the rooms she had once wandered freely, and then back to him. The man she had married. The man she had trusted, even when everything seemed out of reach.
The distance between them felt so wide now, so insurmountable.
Dante sighed heavily, his eyes dark with exhaustion. "I'm not going to lie to you, Amelia. Things are… complicated. But I will protect you. No matter what."
Amelia swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. She nodded, though she didn't quite believe him. No matter what—it was a promise she wasn't sure he could keep.
Without another word, Dante turned and walked toward the door that led to their bedroom. His back was straight, his movements rigid. The man who had carried her through so much was now a stranger, and it hurt in ways she couldn't fully articulate.
The bed felt cold when she finally lay down beside him. They hadn't spoken a word since. The air between them was thick with unspoken questions and a deep, unrelenting silence.
Amelia stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. What was he hiding? What had he been through before this night?
But it wasn't just about the secrets. It was about him. It was about Dante, the man who had shown her both tenderness and ruthlessness, the man who had made her feel things she didn't fully understand. She felt empathy for him in a way that confused her—she wanted to know his pain, to ease it, but she didn't know how.
As the minutes stretched into hours, Amelia's thoughts never stopped. She couldn't silence the barrage of questions swirling in her mind. Dante had always been a man of mystery, a man of control, but now... now he was fractured. And she was caught in the fallout of his battles—physical and emotional.
The darkness outside the window pressed in, and with it, the quiet that filled the house. The kind of quiet that was deafening when you were waiting for something—anything—to break it. Amelia knew the night was far from over, but she could no longer pretend it was the same as it had been.
Dante's breathing, shallow and rhythmic beside her, was the only sound that filled the room. She couldn't sleep. How could she, with everything that had happened? With everything that still hung between them, unresolved?
Amelia's eyes drifted toward him, her gaze resting on his profile in the dim light. His face was turned away, his body still, but she knew he was awake. He always was, even when it seemed like he was lost in the shadows.
She wanted to reach out to him, to break the silence, but her hand hovered over the space between them, uncertain. She was terrified of what might happen if she did. What if it was too late? What if there was no going back from this?
But still, she couldn't stop herself from whispering the words that had been echoing in her mind all night.
"I'm scared, Dante."
Her voice trembled, barely a whisper, but she felt the weight of it in the room. She felt the rawness in the admission, the truth of it. She was scared—of the dangers, of the unknown, of him. But more than anything, she was scared of losing him. Of losing herself in this world he had dragged her into.
Dante was silent for a long moment. His body stiffened, and for a moment, Amelia thought he might say nothing at all. But then, his voice broke the silence, low and soft.
"I know, Amelia. I know."
And with that, the space between them felt just a little less vast, but not by much. The night stretched on, filled with the heavy weight of their shared silence, and Amelia closed her eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, even if just for a fleeting second.
*************
Dante lay still beside her, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but his mind was far from the emptiness of the dark room. Amelia's soft, steady breathing beside him was the only thing anchoring him to reality, yet it did little to calm the storm swirling inside him.
He couldn't sleep. Not tonight.
Every inch of him was on edge—wired with tension from the events of the night, the constant threats looming, and the growing fear for Amelia's safety. But beyond that, there was something else gnawing at him, something deeper than the chaos that had followed him into the house.
His eyes turned toward her, lying next to him in the quiet stillness. Her face was peaceful in sleep, but he could see the strain around her eyes, the shadows of exhaustion that clung to her. His heart clenched at the sight of her, fragile in her vulnerability.
Dante's hand, almost involuntarily, moved to her hair, brushing a few strands away from her face. His fingers lingered against her soft skin, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. It was a simple, innocent gesture—one that he hadn't allowed himself before. He'd kept his distance, always afraid to show any weakness, afraid that he might lose control.
But tonight, with her so close, with everything at risk, he couldn't help but soften. His heart betrayed him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Dante realized that it wasn't just the physical attraction that bound him to her. It was something deeper—something more profound.
He had fallen for her.
The thought hit him like a wave, surprising and overwhelming. How had it happened? When had the line between duty and desire blurred so completely? How had the woman who had been thrust into this world of chaos and violence become the person who kept him grounded, even in the midst of his own turmoil?
He was terrified of what this meant.
The mafia world wasn't kind to those who showed weakness, and for Dante, emotions were a dangerous thing. They could get you killed. Yet, here he was—falling for her, worrying about her.
Her safety, her well-being, it was all he could think about. He was obsessed with the idea of keeping her safe, of protecting her from the violence that clung to his life like a second skin.
His fingers gently stroked her hair again, the motion almost like a caress, tender in its simplicity. He wished, just for a moment, that they could escape this life—the danger, the bloodshed, the constant fear. He wanted to be the man who could offer her peace, the man who could just hold her and make everything better. But deep down, Dante knew that wasn't the reality they were facing.
He could never be that man.
The weight of that truth hung heavily in the air. He let out a deep breath, his chest tightening with the realization that no matter how much he cared for her, he was too far gone. The life he led, the enemies he had made—it would never allow him to be the man she deserved.
He carefully withdrew his hand from her hair, not wanting to disturb her, but a sense of urgency gnawed at him. There was no time for this—no time to dwell on what could never be. He had enemies closing in, and the only way to ensure Amelia's safety was to leave the house, to confront the threat head-on before it consumed them both.
With a final glance at her, his heart heavy with worry, Dante slowly rose from the bed, his movements deliberate but quiet. His body ached with exhaustion, but his mind was sharper than ever. He had to take action, even if it meant leaving Amelia behind, at least for a while.
He reached for his jacket, slipping it on quickly, and then quietly moved toward the door. Each step was filled with resolve, but also an overwhelming sense of guilt. Leaving her alone, especially after everything they'd just endured, wasn't something he wanted to do. But he had no choice. There was too much at risk.
Dante paused at the door, casting one last look over his shoulder at the woman he had come to care for in ways he couldn't fully understand.
You're safer without me, Amelia.
The thought stung, but it was the truth.
He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The house was eerily quiet, the danger still present but now more distant. He moved through the house quickly, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. The shadows seemed to shift around him as he passed, the weight of his decisions pressing down harder with every step.
Dante wasn't sure where he was going. He didn't need to know right now. All that mattered was taking care of the threat before it came too close, before it destroyed everything he had fought for.
As he reached the front door, he took a deep breath, steadying himself. There would be no going back after this. Once he stepped outside, the world would be different more dangerous, more unpredictable.
He didn't look back...