C140 They Would Wish

Dante sat in the safehouse's living area, the low hum of tension vibrating in the air. He hadn't moved since Annabelle had drifted to sleep on his shoulder.

Her even breathing had soothed him briefly, but as the hours ticked by, the weight of everything pressing down on them settled heavier in his chest. His hand rested on the hilt of his gun, a reflex as much as a necessity.

When Annabelle stirred, her lashes fluttering open, he felt her body tense before she even turned her head to meet his gaze. The softness in her features from sleep evaporated, replaced by guarded suspicion.

“How long have I been out?” she asked, her voice still thick with fatigue.

“Not long,” Dante replied, his tone careful. He didn’t want to startle her.

Annabelle sat up slowly, brushing her hair back from her face. Her expression grew sharper as her thoughts aligned. “Dante… I need to ask you something.”

He nodded, bracing himself. He knew that look, the determination in her eyes.

“Did you keep me around,” she said slowly, deliberately, “because I remind you of Isabella?”

The air seemed to thicken around them.

Dante’s fingers twitched on the armrest. He had anticipated this question for weeks, and yet the moment it came, it hit like a punch to the gut.

“At first,” he admitted after a moment, his voice low but steady.

Her lips parted slightly, and she leaned back as if he had struck her. “So it’s true.”

“At first,” he repeated, leaning forward, his gaze locking with hers. “I won’t lie to you. When I saw you, I… I saw her. But Annabelle, that changed. It changed fast. You are nothing like her.”

She frowned, clearly unconvinced. “How am I supposed to believe that? How can I trust anything you say after everything?”

“Because I’m telling you now,” he said firmly, his voice rising slightly. “I didn’t want to tell you then because I didn’t want to hurt you. Just like I didn’t tell you about the child. I thought I was sparing you pain.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Sparing me? You let me walk around clueless, thinking…” She shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like sparing me. That sounds like control.”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “I know it sounds like that. I know I made mistakes, Annabelle, but my feelings for you...they’re not a lie. I love you. Do you understand? I love you.”

She stared at him, the vulnerability in his voice seeming to take her by surprise.

“I don’t see Isabella when I look at you anymore,” he said, his tone softening. “I see you. Only you. The way you fight, the way you protect Cathy, the way you stand up to me even when I hate it. You’ve made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling anymore.”

Annabelle opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her expression wavered, flickering between anger and something softer. But before she could respond, Dante’s phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced down and saw Angelo’s name. Picking it up, he read the short, cryptic message: “Eyes open."

The warning sent a bolt of adrenaline through him.

“What is it?” Annabelle asked, her voice taut with worry.

He didn’t answer immediately.

The faint rustle outside the window caught his attention. He stood abruptly, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Rio!” Dante barked.

The man appeared in the doorway almost instantly. “Boss?”

“Take Annabelle and Cathy out the back,” Dante ordered, his tone sharp and commanding. “Get them to the secondary location.”

“What’s going on?” Annabelle demanded, standing as well.

“No time to explain,” he snapped, his eyes blazing. “Just go with Rio. Now.”

Annabelle hesitated, but when Cathy appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed and confused, she seemed to gather herself. She wrapped an arm around her sister and nodded tightly.

“Stay safe,” she said quietly, her gaze lingering on Dante’s face.

He didn’t respond, his attention already turning to the men who were beginning to mobilise.

“Move!” he barked at Rio.

The group slipped out of the room, and Dante turned toward the front of the safehouse just as the first shadow moved through the trees.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by the flash of gunfire.

“Get down!” one of his men shouted.

Dante dropped low, his gun drawn in an instant. Bullets tore through the air, the sound deafening in the confined space.

“There’s too many of them!” another voice called out.

Dante gritted his teeth. “Hold the line!”

As he fired into the advancing figures, his mind raced.

There was no way the safehouse’s location had been compromised unless… His stomach turned as the realisation hit. There was a mole.

He’d suspected it for weeks, but this attack confirmed it.

And to be attacked now only means one thing.

One of his most loyal men was the mole.

Fuck!

The only ones who knew about this safehouse were Angelo, Rio, and the men with him now.

Dante’s anger boiled over.

He stepped out of cover long enough to fire two clean shots, dropping the nearest attackers.

The chaos around him blurred as he focused solely on the fight, the betrayal simmering in his chest like a live wire.

“Boss, we’re getting overrun!” one of his men shouted.

Dante didn’t respond, his mind whirling with possibilities.

He couldn’t afford to think about Annabelle now, couldn’t let himself worry about whether Rio would get her to safety.

A bullet grazed his arm, the pain sharp and immediate.

He ducked behind cover, his breathing ragged.

“We need backup!” someone yelled.

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “There is no backup,” he growled. “We finish this ourselves.”

The fight intensified, the air thick with smoke and the acrid scent of gunpowder.

Dante pushed everything else aside...his doubts, his fears, even the gnawing worry for Annabelle.

All that mattered now was ending this.

Whoever the mole was, Dante would find them.

And when he did, they would wish they’d never crossed him.