"Sleep had abandoned Ava. Every time she closed her eyes, Ethan's smirk returned—sharp, poisonous, dripping with promises of ruin. The memory of his voice haunted her like a shadow in the dark: You'll never escape me. And for the first time, Ava realized danger wasn't just lurking outside—it was chasing her, waiting for the moment she let her guard down."
Ava couldn't shake the tension from her body.
Even days later, she felt it — Ethan's stare, the fury in his voice, the venom in his words.
This isn't over.
She'd heard empty threats before, but this… this had been different. Ethan wasn't just a bitter ex-boyfriend licking his wounds.
He was angry, humiliated, and something darker lurked beneath it.
She tried to bury herself in work, to keep her routine normal, but unease followed her everywhere.
Every creak of her apartment at night, every shadow on the street, every unfamiliar car parked too close — it all made her pulse race.
And though she hated to admit it, she found herself looking for Dante.
For the shadow of his car outside her building. For the burn of his gaze when he appeared in unexpected places.
To the way the world seemed less frightening when he was near.
It was Thursday night when it .
She'd stayed late at the gallery, finishing paperwork, and by the time she left, the streets were nearly empty.
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she hurried toward her car.
That was when she heard it — the shuffle of footsteps behind her.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned. "Who's there?"
Silence.
Her hand tightened on her keys as she walked faster.
And then — a figure stepped out from the shadows.
Ethan.
Her breath hitched. "What the hell are you doing here?"
His face was twisted, eyes bloodshot, voice slurred with alcohol. "We need to talk."
"I already said everything I needed to." She moved to step past him, but he grabbed her arm.
Pain shot through her skin. "Let go!"
"You think you can just replace me with him?" Ethan's grip tightened, his teeth bared.
"That mafia scum? You think he cares about you? You're just a toy to him, Ava. He'll use you, and when he's done, he'll throw you away."
Her heart pounded. "Better that than staying with a liar like you."
His eyes darkened. "You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do."
She yanked at her arm, but his other hand shot out, pressing against her mouth. Panic surged.
"Stop fighting me," he hissed. "You're coming with me. You'll remember what we had."
Terror clawed up her throat. She struggled, kicking, muffled screams trapped beneath his hand.
And then — a voice cut through the night.
Low but Deadly.
"Take your hands off her!
Ethan froze. Slowly, he turned his head.
Dante Moretti stood at the end of the street, his suit immaculate, his eyes burning with murder. Two of his men flanked him, silent, broad-shouldered, waiting for his command.
"Dante—" Ava's voice cracked as Ethan's hand fell away from her mouth. She stumbled back, gasping for breath.
Dante's gaze flicked over her, taking in the bruise already forming on her arm. His jaw tightened.
"Wrong move," he said softly.
Ethan straightened, masking his fear with bravery. "She's mine. You can't just take her."
Dante's smile was sharp, cold. "She stopped being yours the moment you betrayed her." His voice dropped lower, lethal. "And you should've stayed gone."
Ethan laughed nervously. "What, you gonna kill me in the street?"
Dante stepped forward, slow, deliberate, every inch of him a predator. "I don't make threats, Ethan. I will make examples."
His men shifted closer, ready.
Ethan's face paled. He looked at Ava, desperate now. "Ava, please—tell him not to—"
But Dante's hand shot out, gripping Ethan by the throat, slamming him against the brick wall.
Ava gasped.
Dante's voice was ice. "You put your hands on her. You made her afraid. That, Ethan, is a death sentence in my world."
Ethan choked, clawing at Dante's grip. "She's… not… yours…"
Dante's eyes flicked to Ava — her trembling body, her wide eyes, the faint bruise on her arm. And something in him snapped.
His fist connected with Ethan's jaw, the crack echoing through the alley. Blood sprayed. Ethan crumpled to the ground, groaning.
Dante crouched beside him, gripping his hair, forcing him to look up. "You'll disappear. Tonight. If I see you again—if you so much as breathe in her direction—there won't be enough left of you to bury."
Ethan whimpered, blood dripping from his mouth.
Dante released him, shoving him to the ground like trash.
His men loomed, ready to drag Ethan away if ordered.
But Dante didn't need to. Ethan scrambled to his feet, clutching his jaw, and stumbled into the darkness, too terrified to look back.
Silence fell.
Ava's whole body shook, tears pricking her eyes.
Dante turned to her, his expression softening — but only for her. He stepped closer, cupping her face gently.
"Did he hurt you?" His voice was low, dangerous in its restraint.
She shook her head, though her arm throbbed. "I… I'm okay."
His thumb brushed over her cheek, his jaw tightening again. "I should've killed him.
Her breath hitched. "Dante…"
"I mean it." His gaze burned into hers.
"No one touches what's mine."
Her heart twisted. "You can't just—"
"I can," he cut in, his tone absolute. "And I will.
Because you are mine, Ava. And anyone who forgets that doesn't live to remember it."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, torn between fear and the undeniable truth of how safe she felt in his arms — even when that safety came wrapped in violence.
She should've run. She should've told him to stay away.
Instead, she whispered, "Take me home."
And Dante Moretti — ruthless, merciless Don of the city — wrapped his coat around her shoulders, shielding her from the night.
"Ava's voice trembled as she whispered, 'Dante… take me home.'
His arm tightened around her, his gaze never leaving Ethan's retreating shadow.
'Home?' he murmured, his tone dark, possessive. 'No, Ava. From now on, you're staying where I can see you. Where no one can touch you.....