All movement froze as Isabella stepped further into the warehouse, the light catching the gleam of her gun. Her stance was unwavering, her petite frame exuding a calm ferocity that stopped even the bravest of Igor's men in their tracks.
Igor's right-hand man,went towards Dante, gripping Dante by the hair and pressing the blade to his throat, smirked. "And what will you do, little girl, if I don't?"
The words barely left his mouth when a gunshot split the air. His head snapped back, his body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap. The knife fell from his hand, clattering to the blood-streaked floor.
Isabella lowered her pistol, her expression unchanging. She turned her head slightly, her gaze sweeping the room as if daring anyone else to test her. "Anyone else?" she asked, her voice cold.
Dante, slumped against the chair, forced his eyes open despite the pain radiating through his body. His vision was blurred, but the sight of his wife holding a gun, her presence dominating the room, was seared into his mind. The haze of his semi-conscious state lifted slightly.
Behind Isabella, Matteo barked orders. "Show no mercy! Take them all down!"
Dante's men surged forward, overtaking Igor's forces with swift, brutal efficiency. But Isabella was no bystander. She stormed toward Dante with singular focus, ignoring the chaos around her.
"What the hell were you thinking, Dante Vitale?!" she snapped as she knelt beside him. Her hands worked quickly on the ropes that bound his wrists.
Dante, his voice rough but filled with irritation, rasped back, "What the hell are you doing here, Isabella?! You should be at home!"
Her head snapped up, her glare like a dagger. "Oh, because that's what I should've done—just sit at home baking cookies while my husband falls into an obvious trap and gets himself killed?"
Before he could respond, a man lunged at Isabella with a knife. She didn't even glance at him, her hand moving with practiced ease as she pulled the combat knife strapped to her thigh. In one fluid motion, she threw it, embedding it squarely in the attacker's chest. He fell with a grunt, and she turned back to Dante without missing a beat.
"Do you even think before you act, or do you just enjoy making me worry myself to death?" she demanded, pulling at the last knot.
Dante stared at her, half in awe, half exasperated. "You're one to talk! You're standing in the middle of a war zone!"
Another man rushed toward her from the side, but she whipped around, raised her pistol, and fired a single, clean shot. The attacker crumpled. Isabella sighed, brushing her hair from her face. "Excuse me" she called out, her tone dripping with annoyance, "can't you see I'm talking to my husband?"
Dante groaned, finally pulling free from the ropes as the last one gave way. "You're insane."
"And you're reckless!" she shot back, looping an arm under his to help him stand.
Even as they argued, her sharp eyes caught every movement around them. Another man charged forward, and she raised her gun, firing off two shots before he even got close. Her multitasking was flawless—arguing with Dante one second, incapacitating threats the next.
Matteo approached them amidst the waning chaos, a wry grin on his face. "Looks like the boss's wife cleaned up nicely."
Dante glared at him, still leaning heavily on Isabella. "Don't start, Matteo."
Isabella smirked, shifting slightly to better support her husband. "Oh, don't worry. I'll save the lecture for later" she said sweetly, her tone betraying the storm brewing behind her calm facade.
Dante, battered and bruised, couldn't decide if he was more annoyed or proud. His wife had single-handedly stormed a warehouse, fought off trained men, and saved him—all while scolding him like it was a minor domestic dispute.
As they began to leave the warehouse, Dante couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. His wife was as fierce as she was stubborn, a force of nature wrapped in a deceptively small frame. God help anyone who underestimated Isabella Vitale.
The heavy scent of blood and gunpowder lingered in the air as Dante leaned against Isabella, his steps heavy but determined. They had almost reached the exit when a slow clap echoed through the warehouse, chilling the air.
Igor stood in the center of the exit, flanked by at least twenty men, his smirk smug and his confidence unfaltering. "You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" he taunted, spreading his arms as if he were the master of a twisted game.
Matteo stepped forward, his eyes scanning the new wave of armed men. "Oh, hell naw" he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "I'm not in the mood for this." He turned back to Dante and Isabella, his voice sharp as steel. "I'll take the lead. Let's end this quickly."
Dante straightened, his injuries ignored as he rolled his neck with a dark grin. "Hold on, Matteo. I think it's time my wife saw her husband in action." He tilted his head toward Isabella, his dark eyes glinting with challenge.
Isabella crossed her arms, her gun still in hand, her expression unimpressed. "Only if I can fight with you" she countered, her voice calm but full of steel.
Dante arched a brow, his lips twitching with amusement. "Don't I always say yes to you, sweetheart?"
They stepped into position, Dante standing tall beside Isabella as they faced the sea of enemies. Without missing a beat, Dante grabbed a gun from one of Matteo's men, cocked it, and smirked at his wife. "Stay close" he said.
"Back-to-back?" Isabella asked, her voice laced with a mix of determination and adrenaline.
Dante grinned. "Back-to-back."
They moved in perfect synchronization, their backs pressed together as the fight erupted. Dante fired off rounds with deadly precision, each shot finding its mark. Men fell like flies as he moved with fluid, lethal grace, his strength and years of training unmistakable.
Isabella wasn't just keeping up—she was thriving. Her petite frame was deceptive as she pivoted smoothly, shooting two men who had tried to flank them. One attempted to rush her, but she flipped her gun, slamming the butt into his nose with a satisfying crack before firing a shot into his chest.
"Impressive" Dante said, his voice low and teasing, as he elbowed a man in the face before shooting another.
"Focus, Vitale" Isabella replied, her voice sharp but amused. She ducked a swing from one of Igor's men, delivering a sharp kick to his shin.
Another wave of attackers rushed them, and Dante spun, grabbing a knife from his belt. He flung it with deadly accuracy, taking down one man, while Isabella fired at another who was creeping up behind them.
"I had him" Dante muttered as he reloaded.
"Sure you did" Isabella shot back, her smirk audible in her tone.
A man lunged at her, but Dante caught him mid-charge, slamming him into the ground with brute force. As he rose, blood splattered across his face, his dark, dangerous aura making the remaining enemies hesitate. Isabella, meanwhile, sidestepped another attacker, grabbed him by the arm, and twisted it sharply before throwing him to the ground.
"They're slowing down" Dante noted, his voice calm despite the chaos.
"Or they're realizing we're out of their league" Isabella replied, her tone cool.
Igor, still standing at the exit, was growing visibly agitated as his men fell one by one. "You think this is over?" he shouted. "You're both dead!"
"Then come and try" Dante called back, his voice cold enough to freeze the room. He turned to Isabella. "Let's finish this."
With a shared nod, the couple advanced, moving as one. Dante's strikes were brutal, his hits precise, while Isabella's agility and sharp shooting made her a force to be reckoned with. Their backs stayed close, protecting each other in a deadly dance of violence and unity.
As the last of Igor's men fell, Dante turned to Isabella, bloodied but victorious, his grin wild and proud. "You're not just my wife" he said, his voice low and filled with admiration. "You're my partner."
Behind them, Matteo groaned loudly, interrupting the charged moment. "Oh, come on! What about me? Am I just chopped liver now? I've been your partner for years!"
Isabella snorted, unable to help the laughter bubbling up as she glanced back at Matteo, who stood with his arms crossed and a mock pout on his face.
Dante rolled his eyes, wiping blood off his face with the back of his hand. "Matteo, you've always been my partner...in work. But this?" He gestured toward Isabella, his lips quirking into a smirk. "This is different."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it" Matteo muttered, throwing his hands up. "She's prettier than me. Fine. Whatever." He shot Isabella a pointed look. "But don't forget who's been cleaning up after this guy for years. You've had him for a year—I dealt with his chaos for a decade."
Isabella chuckled, walking over to Matteo and giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Matteo. You'll always be his first partner in crime."
Dante groaned, shaking his head. "Can we finish this conversation after we take care of Igor?"
Matteo smirked, clearly enjoying his teasing role. "Sure, sure. But just so you know, I expect flowers or something for my loyalty."
Isabella laughed as Dante muttered under his breath, "I should've let Igor keep you instead." The tension in the room eased, even as the fight wasn't quite over yet.
Igor's blood drained as he attempted make a run for it. Desperation etched across his face. But....his hope was short lived. Out of the shadows, a tall imposing figure emerged, moving with the grace of a predator. The man was well built, and incredibly attractive. He looked like he was 40. He grabbed Igor by the back of his neck and slammed him to the ground like a rag doll.
Igor groaned in pain, fear visible on his face as he recognized the man. He squirmed beneath the grip of the stranger. Who didn't even flinch, instead he calmly pulled a sleek silver gun from his holster and pointed it at Igor's head.
"Vitale." The man said. His voice smooth and lethal, carrying an accent that added to his Mysterious aura.
Recognition flashed in Dante's eyes as he locked eyes with the man. His lips curled slightly, a mixture of respect and wariness. "Karpov." His voice steady but weighed with meaning.
Dante stepped forward, his expression unreadable as the two men locked eyes in a moment of understanding. A respect born of mutual experience and reputation. They don't need words. Il Diavolo and Lucifer.
Two devils of their own making, acknowledging the chaos they both carried.
And without breaking the gaze, Mikhail shifted his gun slightly, his finger steady on the trigger.
BANG
The deafening sound echoed through the warehouse. As Igor's lifeless body slumped against the cold floor.