Her heart raced, and every step felt like it could be her last. Danger wasn't behind her, it was closing in fast.
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Ophelia's POV — Street Chase:
Ophelia Ravenwood walked toward her car, the night calm and quiet, or so it seemed.
Then she noticed them: shadowy figures keeping pace a few steps behind.
Panic hit her all at once. Her mind went blank. She wasn't close to her car. She didn't think. She just ran.
Her heels pounded against the pavement, echoing into the empty streets. Her bag swung wildly at her side. Breath burned her lungs. Fear had taken over completely.
From a distance, Dante Moretti watched her. He had been sitting in his car, noting the movements of the men he hadn't yet identified, but instinct told him trouble was coming.
As Ophelia ran, Dante's jaw tightened. He moved with controlled precision, following the men silently. Every step measured. Every instinct sharp.
She spotted a building, almost blindly, and ran inside, slamming the door behind her.
Dante was there moments later, ensuring the men didn't get back up. The room was silent except for her shallow breaths.
He stepped closer. His presence was calm, steady, and imposing.
"You're safe now," he said. "May I… take you home?"
Ophelia hesitated, knees weak, voice barely audible.
"Yes," she whispered.
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Dante's POV — Car Ride:
He drove in silence at first, eyes scanning the streets, hands firm on the wheel.
Then he turned slightly toward her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm.
"Do you know who those men were?"
She shook her head, trembling. Her eyes were wide, unblinking. Her hands gripped her bag tightly.
Seeing how terrified she was, he stopped talking. Words weren't needed. The hum of the engine and the streetlights sliding past were enough for now.
He drove her home safely, every instinct on alert, every muscle ready to protect.
When they arrived, she finally found her voice.
"Thank you," she whispered, still trembling.
He nodded slightly, his gaze lingering for a brief moment.
"You're welcome," he said. Then, without another word, he started the engine and drove off into the night.
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Ophelia's POV — At Home:
The door clicked shut behind her. She pressed her bag to her chest, trying to calm the adrenaline still running through her veins.
Safe. Finally, she thought.
"Ophelia! Are you okay?"
The voice was soft, sweet, too sweet.
She turned to see her half-sister, Vivienne Ravenwood standing in the living room, eyes wide with feigned concern.
"Oh my God… I was so worried when I heard you went out tonight. I even called a few times!"
Ophelia hesitated. She didn't remember anyone calling.
"I… I'm fine," she whispered, still catching her breath.
Vivi stepped closer, offering a gentle hand.
"You look shaken. Sit down, let me get you some water," she said with a warm, almost sisterly smile.
Ophelia nodded, grateful for what appeared to be care. She didn't notice the subtle gleam in Vivi's eyes, just a flicker, easily mistaken for the reflection of the lamp light.
Everything about her tone, her posture, her gestures screamed "friendly concern." And yet… something didn't sit right.
Ophelia shook it off. She needed comfort, not suspicion. She allowed herself to be led to the couch, Vivi chatting softly, asking questions about her day, her solo date… everything casual, everything normal.
"I… I don't even know what happened," Ophelia admitted, still shaking. "I just heard… a fight. And then… they were gone. I don't know who… who helped me."
Vivi reached out, patting her hand.
"Oh, darling… it's okay. The important thing is you're safe now."
Ophelia nodded, letting the warm words soothe her. She didn't mention the man who had saved her, because she hadn't seen him clearly. And for some reason, she felt a strange pull toward the memory of a presence that had been calm, steady… and impossibly strong.
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Dante's POV — After Dropping Ophelia Home:
He started the engine and drove off, hands firm on the wheel, mind already racing.
Pulling out his phone, he tapped a few numbers with precise efficiency.
"Yes… find those men. Detain them. And find out who sent them. I want answers, and I want them quietly," he ordered.
The line clicked off. He stared at the city lights, calm on the surface, but every muscle ready for action.
No one threatens someone I care about and gets away with it.
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The night had seemed to end safely, but sometimes the most dangerous threats wear the kindest faces… and for Ophelia Ravenwood, the real storm was only just beginning.