Elena's Point of View
I hadn't slept a single moment. Each time his hand returned in my memory, heavy on my shoulder, each time I felt again the chill of his breath against my neck, fear tightened around me like a noose. He had hurled me onto the bed like prey, and his threats still rang in my head: If you dare to run again… you will regret it.
At dawn, the door slammed open. A man in black entered, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Get up. You're coming with me."
I rose, hesitant. My legs shook, yet I followed him through the hushed corridors. Each step echoed like a verdict.
"Where… where are we going?" My voice was faint, strangled by dread.
He didn't slow. His eyes flicked toward me, glacial. "You'll see. And you'll remember."
We descended into a room I had never seen. Bare walls, the metallic tang in the air, and at the center… two men bound to chairs. My breath caught in my throat.
Dante advanced, deliberate, each step measured. "Traitors, Elena. They thought they could sell me out."
His tone was calm, stripped of anger, yet every word carried lethal weight. One prisoner stammered pleas, desperate apologies. Dante drew his weapon, pressed it to the man's temple, and fired.
The crack split the air, sharp, merciless. The body collapsed, lifeless.
I flinched violently, my hands flying to my mouth to smother a scream. My knees buckled, forcing me to cling to the wall. My heart hammered so hard I thought it would burst. Tears welled, but I dared not let them fall. Nausea surged, brutal, and I fought against it.
He turned to me, face unreadable. "You see. That is the fate of those who think they can flee or betray."
I wanted to avert my eyes, but his voice held me captive. My stomach twisted, my hands shook, my breath fractured. I longed to run, to scream, but my body remained frozen.
The second prisoner trembled, mute with terror. The gun was holstered, and Dante bent close, whispering words I couldn't catch. The man broke into sobs. A gesture sent the guards to drag him away.
He returned, gaze still cold. "I wanted you to witness it. To understand that my threats are never empty."
My legs weakened. Fear consumed me, absolute, irreversible. He was not merely cruel—he was a feared mafioso, a man for whom a traitor's life meant nothing.
And I… I was trapped in his world.
The gunshot still reverberated in my ears. The body's fall replayed in my mind, shattering my breath. My stomach churned, my legs trembled.
Instinct drove me into the corridor, heart pounding to the point of breaking. I ran without direction until I stumbled into a bathroom and collapsed.
The metallic stench clung to my throat. I gripped the sink, knuckles white, and vomited, unable to resist the wave of revulsion. Each spasm dragged back the image of the body crumpling, the vacant eyes, life extinguished in an instant.
Tears blurred my sight. How could a man kill without hesitation, without a flicker of doubt? I wanted to erase the vision, but it carved itself deeper, like a burning scar.
The door opened. Footsteps measured, gaze unyielding. He found me curled, breath ragged, still convulsed by the aftermath.
"You had to see. You had to understand." His voice was cold, sharp as steel.
I raised my eyes, unable to suppress the question: "How can you kill without pity… without feeling anything?"
He crouched before me, his face close enough that I felt his breath. His eyes gleamed with relentless hardness. "In my world, Elena, pity is weakness. Loyalty is the only law. Those who betray deserve nothing but death. One traitor can destroy everything we've built."
I shook my head, horrified. "But they're lives… men…"
He seized my chin, forcing my gaze to his. His voice deepened, cutting: "I will protect you, Elena. As long as you remain clean, as long as you stay loyal, no one will touch you. But if you lie to me, if you betray me… you will share their fate. Or worse."
His words struck like a sentence. My heart faltered. He had sealed my destiny: shielded if I obeyed, doomed if I defied.
The jacket was adjusted, the eyes lingered one last time, cold yet certain. "Compose yourself. Tonight, you'll be at my side. But first… I have someone important to meet."
He left, his steps echoing down the corridor. I remained alone, curled against the wall, haunted by his threats and the lingering scent of blood.
Dante's Point of View
I walked out of the bathroom without turning back. She had to absorb what she had witnessed. Loyalty is not explained—it is demonstrated, etched into flesh.
In the corridor, my steps beat with metronomic precision. I already knew my destination. Tonight, Elena would stand beside me, but before that, I had to secure my alliances.
The car waited at the entrance. I slid inside, shut the door, and the engine roared. The city stretched before me, but only one place mattered: the office of the man who had held the keys to our empire for years.
When I entered, he rose. An old associate, respected, his word worth as much as a contract signed in blood. His eyes narrowed. "You executed the traitor."
I inclined my head. "There was no other choice. The family must remain whole."
He smiled, without warmth. "You are worthy of your name. But tonight, you must show more than strength. You must prove you can keep a companion at your side."
I paused. Elena. She was unprepared, but she had to learn. And I had to prove I could bring her into my world without faltering.
"Tonight, she will be there. And they will see her loyalty."
He nodded. "Then prepare her. In this circle, weakness is punished faster than betrayal."
I rose, adjusted my jacket. His words did not unsettle me: I already knew the evening would be a trial. For her. For me. For us.
The road stretched ahead, long and silent. City lights blurred past like shards of glass. My gaze drifted, but my mind remained fixed on Elena.
The car glided over asphalt. Each turn carried me closer to the house, closer to her. I already felt the weight of the night: the stares, the whispers, the judgments. She would be examined. And I, judged through her.
Crossing the threshold again, the patriarch's words echoed: Weakness is punished faster than betrayal. Tonight, she had to be more than presence—she had to be weapon, image, spark.
I climbed the stairs. The bathroom door stood ajar. She was still there, seated against the wall, eyes red, face etched with fear. Fragility incarnate. Yet beneath it, I knew a strength she had not yet discovered.
I crouched before her, gaze stern but hands gentler. "Listen, Elena. Tonight, you will not be a victim. You will be my reflection. I want you to impress them—not only with your face, but with the light hidden inside you."
She lowered her eyes, hesitant. "I don't know if I can…"
I lifted her chin, brushed her cheek with my fingertips. "You can. Do you think I don't see your beauty? It lies behind your tears. Tonight, you must reveal it. Dress like a queen. Stand tall like a lioness. And when you walk beside me, they must believe you belong to me."
Her lips trembled. "And Cassian Riva…?"
I held her gaze, a cold gleam in mine. "Cassian must believe you are mine. That is how you will draw him in. Men like him crave what they cannot possess. You will be my companion before all, but in the shadows… you will play your role."
I pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, rare, almost tender. "Prepare yourself, Elena. Tonight, you will be both my companion and my weapon. Show them the beauty within you… and I promise, as long as you remain loyal, no one will extinguish it."
I rose, adjusted my jacket. This time, I left not a threat, but a mission.