C160 Unwavering Conviction

Annabelle stared out of the car window, the hum of the tires on the asphalt blending with the low murmur of her mother and Cathy’s conversation in the backseat.

Their words were soft, almost a soothing lullaby, but her mind was far from at peace.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Natasha’s attack.

Her friend had believed it to be a random act of violence.

She thought it was the work of one of those deranged predators who preyed on women.

One the police had not found yet.

But Annabelle wasn’t convinced.

There was something gnawing at her.

A cold certainty that this wasn’t random.

Despite Dante’s relentless efforts, Tad had slipped through the cracks after they discovered he was behind most of the chaos in their lives.

It was like he’d vanished underground, only to reappear when they least expected it.

"Could this be Tad's handiwork?" She finally put words to what had been bothering her.

Still, it didn't make sense to her.

But Natasha? Tad wouldn’t see her as anything more than one of Dante’s employees.

Unless...

The realisation struck like a blade.

What if Tad had targeted Natasha because of her?

Because he’d seen them together before, maybe during one of the many times Natasha had been at her side, helping her navigate Dante’s world?

Her chest tightened, guilt pouring into her like a tidal wave.

Had she somehow put her friend in danger?

By the time they pulled into the driveway, her thoughts had spiraled into a storm of self-blame.

Even as she helped Mauve and Cathy out of the car, plastering on a cheerful smile, the weight in her chest didn’t lift.

************

Dante noticed it immediately.

She had barely stepped into the house when he excused himself from Angelo and Sal, leaving behind their conversation about Mikhail and Antonia’s unexplained disappearances.

“Annabelle,” Dante said softly, his hand finding hers as he led her into the study. “What’s wrong?”

Her heart squeezed at the concern etched into his face, the way his dark brows furrowed deeply.

Even with the weight of his own worries, he saw her pain.

“What about you?” she countered, noticing the slight tension in his jaw. “Something’s bothering you too."

For a moment, Dante hesitated.

He clearly wanted to shield her, but then his lips pressed into a line, and he nodded. “Mikhail hasn’t been seen in Acadia for a while now. His men initially said it was a personal trip, something his sister claimed as well. But now Antonia hasn’t been seen for days either. It’s... concerning."

Annabelle frowned, her mind briefly torn between her friend and Dante’s worries. “What do you think happened?"

Dante’s expression darkened. “I don’t know yet, but it’s my problem to solve. Leave it to me."

Then his gaze softened as he cupped her cheek. “But I’m not letting you change the subject. What’s bothering you?”

Her breath hitched.

The floodgates opened, and she told him about Natasha’s attack.

The details poured out.

She told him of her friend’s fear, her pain, and her resilience despite what she’d endured.

Dante’s jaw tightened, fury flashing in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

“I only found out today,” she said, her voice shaking. “But Dante... I think it might’ve been Tad."

The name hung heavy in the air between them, a spectre that never seemed to fade.

Dante’s eyes hardened further, the promise of vengeance simmering just beneath the surface.

“And if it was him,” Annabelle continued, her voice barely above a whisper, “I think it’s because of me.”

Dante’s hand shot to her shoulder, his grip firm but steady. “Don’t,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Don’t you dare take the blame for what that monster does.”

Her heart cracked under the weight of his fierce protectiveness, but something clicked in her mind.

Her breath hitched as a memory surfaced.

“The call,” she said suddenly, her eyes widening.

Dante’s brow furrowed as urgency laced hs tone. “What call?”

“The day Natasha was attacked,” Annabelle murmured, her voice thick with regret. “I think that was the time she called. Remember that missed call? She called me, and I didn't help her. I should have go check on her when her number went straight to voicemail after the call was cut short. She was calling for help, and I wasn’t there for her."

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she choked out, “I failed her, Dante. I wasn’t there when she needed me the most."

Dante pulled her into his arms without hesitation, his warmth grounding her even as she sobbed against his chest. “You didn’t fail her. I was there too, remember?” he murmured into her hair. “Natasha is alive, Annabelle. And knowing her, she’ll fight through this like the warrior she is. She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself."

Annabelle nodded against him, but the guilt still churned within her.

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “I need to call her,” she said with newfound determination. “I need to ask if she remembers anything about the man who attacked her. If it was Tad, we need to know."

Dante studied her for a moment, pride flickering in his eyes. “I was going to call her myself, but I understand. If this is what you need to do, then do it."

Her throat tightened. “If this is Tad, Dante, then everything...everything you’ve lost, everything we’ve been through...it’s all because of me."

Dante shook his head sharply, his hands framing her face. “Listen to me, Annabelle. None of this is your fault. Tad is a coward and a lunatic. Whatever he’s done, it’s because of his sick mind, not because of you. Do you understand me?"

His unwavering conviction steadied her, and she nodded, even though the guilt still lingered.

“Good,” he said simply.

Then he pulled her back into his embrace.