Through the chaos, I can see Rafa, Vito, Marco, and Dario locked in some version of a standoff with equally pissed Costello soldiers. There's a body on the living room floor—Sal, I think—collapsed in front of the balcony doors with a dark pool spreading beneath him.
My stomach lurches.
Dante peers around the table, gun raised, his face a mask of lethal concentration. A blond soldier steps over Sal's body, heading for the balcony doors. Heading for us.
The sound of Dante's gun firing so close to me makes me gasp and jump. I let a tear roll down my cheek as I remove my hands from my ears and press my fist against my lips to keep from screaming.
Dante's bullet finds its mark. The soldier drops.
But two more rush through the doors to replace him, and suddenly the balcony becomes a war zone. Dante fires several more shots before crouching back behind the table with me.
A bullet chips the top of the table, sending debris flying. I flinch and clamp my hand harder across my mouth to stay quiet, more tears falling when I squeeze my eyes shut. I haven't felt this terrified since the night Vito killed Papà at our weekly family dinner. Cowering here, I'm no longer the defiant girl who's been testing boundaries and playing games. I'm just scared—terrified for my life and completely dependent on the man beside me.
Another round hits the table, chipping the corner and sending debris into Dante's shoulder. He winces but raises his arm and empties the magazine. The gun clicks empty.
That's when I notice the blood.
"You're bleeding," I say, staring at my hand where I've touched him. Red smears across my palm, and I look at it numbly before meeting his eyes.
"What did I tell you?" he hisses, checking his weapon and tossing it aside when he confirms it's empty. "Shut up, princess. And especially, do not move."
He waits for the telltale click of an empty chamber from our attacker, then bolts from behind the table. With the advantageof knowing the space, he takes the soldier by surprise. His boot lands squarely on the man's leg, causing him to cry out and fall. The gun flies from his hands mid-reload.
"Kieran Costello—" the soldier starts.
"Save it." Dante grabs a fistful of his hair, ready to slam his head into the concrete. "Nobody here wants to hear from Costello."
And then, as suddenly as it started, everything goes quiet.
Eerie silence accompanies the ringing in my ears. I don't know how long I've been sitting behind the table—tears undoubtedly streaking my eyeliner, Dante's blood smeared on my cheek—when eventually a shadow looms over me.
Unable to distinguish friend from foe, my fight-or-flight response kicks in. I shriek and put up as much of a fight as I can manage.
"No! Let me go!"
"Princess, it's me—it's Dante. I'm not going to hurt you." The nickname I've come to loathe pulls me back to the present. The scream in my chest turns into a strangled sob and I fall back to my knees, gasping for air.
I can't do this. This can't be my future.
Dante kneels next to me, reaching out with a wince from his injury. For the first time since I've known him, his touch is purely gentle—no authority, no control, just comfort.
"Sofia?" Vito's voice barks from inside. Despite his hard, demanding tone, there's an element of worry that surprises me.
"We're out here," Dante calls back. "She's okay, a bit shaken, but okay. We'll be inside shortly."
My head spins. The balcony is quiet now, but the gunfire and shouting still reverberate inside my skull. I move to press my palms against my ears to silence the noise, but pause when I see the drying blood on my hand again.
"You're bleeding," I state, the words feeling familiar but emotionless as they fall from my lips.
"I am," Dante concurs quietly. His touch is gentle when his fingers wrap around my arm, guiding me to my feet. "Come on, let's get you inside."
Glass crunches under our feet as he leads us from behind the table. Bodies are strewn across the balcony, and even more are scattered throughout the penthouse. Dante moves a hand to the small of my back, pushing me toward Vito's office, and I realize something has fundamentally changed between us.
He just risked his life to protect me. And despite everything, despite all my anger and resentment and desperate need for freedom, I know that if the situation were reversed, I would have done the same for him.
The thought terrifies me almost as much as the gunfire did.
"You said she was okay." Vito's eyes light up with fury when they land on me.
