Chapter 4 "Dante!" Elena Santiago's smile lights up her entire face as she sweeps into the dining room, nine-month-old Stella cradled against her chest. "Look who finally woke up from her nap." The baby blinks at me with huge eyes-Elena's eyes, thank god, not her biological father's-and something within me softens. I set down my wine glass, already reaching for her. "There's my girl." Stella comes to me willingly, her tiny body warm and trusting against my chest. These moments of normalcy have become precious in our world-dinner with friends, a beautiful baby, the best wine that money can buy. For a few hours, I can pretend I'm just a man enjoying an evening rather than what I really am: a weapon pointed at enemies. Mario watches from across the table, his protective stance never quite relaxed, even with Stella's biological father, Anthony Calabrese, safely behind bars. "Who would believe the feared Dante Moretti is such a sucker for my daughter?" "Watch it, old man," I warn, but there's no heat in it. Not while I've got an armful of warm baby. Stella immediately grabs for my tie, stuffing the silk into her mouth with single-minded determination. "That's Armani, little star." Elena's laugh holds a new lightness these days, the shadow of Anthony's threats finally lifted. "She's already developing expensive taste." She refills my wine glass before settling back in her chair. "Speaking of which, did you see Dominic Calabrese is back from Europe?" The name sends a chill through me, but I keep my expression neutral for Stella's sake. The baby is sensitive to mood shifts-another trait she shares with her mother. Mario's expression darkens across the table. "Anthony's younger brother. Always was the more volatile one." "He's been making noise about the family's 'lost honor' since Anthony's conviction," I say, adjusting Stella as she squirms in my arms. The word "honor" tastes bitter on my tongue. Nothing honorable about how Anthony had stalked Elena, tried to take her and the baby, until Siobhan's forces and the DeLuca mob came together to finally take him down. The Renaldis were also instrumental in that. Sofia played a main part in thwarting Anthony and helping Elena and Mario escape his clutches. Sofia. It's been three weeks since I've allowed myself near her. Three weeks of torture, knowing I let her see too much of what I feel that night on the terrace. Three weeks of doing the right thing, keeping my distance like Marco would want. Like she deserves. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it, trying to hold onto this moment of peace. Stella has snuggled against my chest, her tiny fist still clutching my tie, her breath warm against my neck. It buzzes again. And again. Elena's expression tightens, her blue eyes narrowing. She knows what multiple calls mean in our world. "Dante, you should probably answer your phone." With a growing sense of dread, I shift the baby carefully back to her mother. The screen shows three missed calls from Marco. As I watch, a text appears: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? Ice slides down my spine. Marco doesn't panic. Ever. "I need to take this," I say, already standing. Mario's face is grim-he recognizes the look too. The look of a man receiving news that's about to shatter the peace. "Go," he says quietly. "We'll be here." I step onto the terrace, the cool night air doing nothing to ease the tightness that's suddenly over me. I hit redial, preparing for business problems, territory disputes, maybe even a betrayal by a lesser family. What I'm not prepared for is the raw anguish in Marco's voice when he answers on the first ring. "She's gone." His voice breaks, barely recognizable. "Someone took her, Dante. They took Sofia." The world tilts sideways. My vision narrows to a pinpoint, blood rushing in my ears. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't think, can't process the words. Then training kicks in, walling off emotion, focusing on facts, on action. "What happened?" My voice sounds distant to my own ears. "She called me. Said someone was in the house. I heard-" Marco's voice breaks, and the sound of my oldest friend so devastated cuts through me like a blade. "I heard her scream. By the time my men got there..." Ice floods my veins. I'm already moving, instinct taking over as I check my weapons, checking what I have, what I'll need. "Signs of forced entry?" "Professional job. They knew the security system, knew when she'd be alone. She said the security feed was on a loop." Papers shuffle in the background. "Found this in her room." A photo appears on my phone. My mouth dries. A black business card, blank except for an ornate golden key-the Calabrese family crest. But not Anthony's personal symbol. This one has a subtle difference, a small "D" worked into the design. "Dominic," I growl, the name like poison in my mouth. "Taking revenge for his brother." "The timing's not a coincidence," Marco says, his voice steadying as he focuses on the facts, just as I have. It's what we do, how we survive. "Anthony's appeal was just denied last week. Now suddenly his brother's making moves?" My mind races through implications, possible scenarios, each one worse than the last. I think of the women that were rescued from Anthony's auction house last year-terrified, drugged, treated like merchandise. I think of Sofia, brilliant and fierce and so goddamn young, in the hands of men who traffic in human lives. My free hand curls into a fist so tight I feel my knuckles crack. "He's using Sofia to get back at all of us. For Anthony. For the family's 'lost honor.'" "I need you on this, brother." The raw fear in Marco's voice cuts deep. "Sofia helped protect Elena when she was pregnant with Stella. Now Dominic's going to make her pay for it because he can't get to Elena or Mario." Twenty-two years old. Brilliant and brave and too damn selfless for her own good. And mine. The thought ambushes me, unleashing an emotion so violent I have to grip the terrace railing to steady myself. Sofia is mine to protect. Mine to save. Mine in ways I've never allowed myself to acknowledge, not even in the darkest hours of the night when her face haunts my dreams. "I'll handle it." My voice is pure ice now, all emotion locked away behind the persona I've cultivated for years. The Moretti who makes men tremble. The enforcer who never fails. "Send me everything you have. And Marco? Dominic's going to wish he was in hell." I end the call, already calculating resources, contacts, weapons. The cold, deadly part of me-the part that earned my reputation-lays out concise plans. The rest of me, the part I keep carefully hidden, howls with a fury I've never felt before. Mario and Elena are already in the doorway, alarm clear on their faces. "Dominic," Elena whispers, clutching Stella closer. "He's really doing this?" Mario's expression is murderous. "My contacts say he's rebuilt Anthony's old network. Including the auction house." The words hit me hard. I think of Sofia on an auction block, men bidding on her like she's property. The image threatens to shatter my control. "Three days," I cut in, reading Marco's intel flooding my phone. "That's our window before the auction." "You'll need a cover to get in," Mario says. "Dominic's more unstable than Anthony ever was. More prone to violence." "Then make me someone who speaks his language. Someone with enough money and darkness to be believable." My voice could freeze hell itself. "I don't fucking care what it takes." My phone buzzes again. More photos from Marco's team. Sofia's bedroom, the signs of struggle evident in overturned furniture and broken glass. Her phone shattered on the floor, screen cracked like a spiderweb. The Taylor Swift song still playing softly from her speakers-the soundtrack to violence that should never have touched her. I stare at the images, memorizing every detail, fueling the cold rage building inside me. Putting Anthony away should have ended this. We should have known his brother would carry on the vendetta. Stella whimpers in her sleep, disturbed by the tension in the room, and Elena soothes her automatically. The sight of them-safe, whole, protected-hardens my resolve. We saved Elena from Anthony. I will save Sofia from Dominic, no matter what it costs me. "We took down Anthony," Mario says quietly, determination in every line of his body. "We'll take down Dominic too." "Yes." My voice holds a promise of violence that would terrify most men. "And this time, we make sure there are no Calabreses left to come after the family again." I meet Mario's eyes, and he nods once, understanding perfectly. This isn't just a rescue mission. It's an execution order. "Sir." James Burton strides onto the terrace, tablet in hand. He's everything a head of security should be-sharp suit, sharper eyes, completely composed despite the crisis. "I've got teams checking the lake house and beach property. No signs of forced entry." It makes sense they'd look there first. The lake house and beach house are both isolated, private properties owned by the Renaldis through shell companies-perfect places to hold someone if you want to keep them hidden but comfortable. If this is about ransom rather than revenge, those would be logical holding locations. "That's impossible." Marco's voice crackles through James's speaker. "Someone got past our security⁠-" "They must have had inside knowledge," James cuts in smoothly. "I've got men checking the warehouse district too. Lots of abandoned buildings there. If they're planning to move her, they might be holding her temporarily somewhere less obvious." I watch James tap efficiently on his tablet, something nagging at the back of my mind. As Marco's head of security for the past five years, James should have noticed any breaches in their system. Should have seen this coming. "The warehouse district's..." I pause, watching James. "It's a dead end. They'd want somewhere more-somewhere designed for their..." I can't bring myself to say it directly. "Their business." "With all due respect, Moretti"-James's smile doesn't reach his eyes-"security is my department. I've got protocols in place." "The same protocols that just failed Sofia?" I step closer, using my height advantage. A flash of something-anger? resentment?-crosses James's face before his mask returns. "We all want her back safely. Some of us have been protecting her longer than others." Before I can respond, Mario cuts in, "Enough. James, coordinate with my teams. Dante⁠-" "Already moving." I head for the door, my mind shifting to what I'll need. Weapons. Cash. A new identity. Contacts in the criminal underworld who might know Dominic's operation. But as I pass, I catch James watching me with an expression that doesn't match his concerned words. Something calculating. Something dangerous. I file it away-another piece of the puzzle, another potential threat. Right now, Sofia is all that matters. Finding her. Saving her. Bringing her home. And making every person who touched her pay with their blood. Because that's who I am. That's what I do. I am the monster who guards the Renaldi gates. The weapon they point at their enemies. And for Sofia, I'll become something even worse. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...