C36 Mine To Protect

When Angelo arrived at the mansion carrying Annabelle, unconscious and bruised, Dante was already waiting at the door.

His figure dark and unyielding against the glow of the dim porch lights. The sight of her slumped in Angelo’s arms, her body limp and her clothes stained with blood, was enough to send a wave of raw fury crashing through him.

His hands clenched at his sides as he fought against an urge to rip apart whatever force had dared to harm her. He’d expected many things when he’d sent Angelo to retrieve her, but not this.

His gaze flicked to Angelo, who gave a small nod. “She’s breathing,” he muttered. “But she lost a fair amount of blood.”

Dante’s lips tightened.

As much as he wanted to snatch her from his consigliere's arms, he didn't want to cause her more pain.

His stare stood fixed on Annabelle as he instructed, “Take her to the infirmary. I’ll be there shortly.”

Dr. Aguillar and a second doctor, already summoned by Dante, were waiting in the recovery room with three attending nurses.

Dante stayed behind them as they worked, his silence heavy with many undertones.

The air in the room grew tense as the doctors assessed Annabelle’s injuries, each muttered word and every rustle of cloth increasing his impatience.

Aguillar's brows were furrowed when he was checking the crimson wetness that had soaked the legs of her jeans.

He knew he didn’t have to ask Dante first before he brought in the necessary equipment to do a proper check to confirm his fears.

As soon as the ultrasound scan was brought, Dr Aguillar quickly did the test and he looked towards Dante with a grave look on his face.

The strange feeling of fear that coursed through Dante made his expression turn darker.

“Do everything you can,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “I don’t care how long it takes. She will wake up, or you will answer to me.”

He didn’t need to elaborate; the steel in his voice was enough.

Aguillar quickly nodded and turned back to the task at hand. He figured he would just talk to the boss when he was not likely to get his brains blown out.

“It's such a damn shame though,” he thought to himself as he did all the other thorough checks to ensure she was not bleeding inwardly.

She also had a blood vessel rupture, but thankfully it was not severe.

So she would need surgery. She still needed care and supervision though.

Aguillar was more than ready to do all he could to make sure she was back on her feet as soon as possible.

He chanced a glance towards Dante and his fixed gaze on Annabelle confirmed Aguillar’s guess.

The lady was important to the boss.

He dismissed the doctors without a single word and barely paid attention to their murmur of words to Angelo just beyond the door.

At long last, he was left alone with her.

Annabelle’s lashes remained still, and her breathing was shallow but steady. It was a small comfort, but Dante needed more.

He wanted her awake and responsive. He needed to see her look at him even if the look was filled with loathing like the last time.

As he watched over her, minutes dragged into hours, each second stretching and pulling against his nerves.

She lay unmoving, her face pale against the white sheets, and for the first time, Dante found himself tracing the contours of her features, looking at her without the armour of cold detachment he typically wore.

Her vulnerability stirred that strange feeling in him again, something that felt perilously close to fear.

"I should stay away from you." He thought suddenly. "My world will eat you alive and spit you out. I can't though."

"I... can't," he muttered with growing realization backed by a fierce determination.

She wouldn't end up like Isabella. He would make sure of it.

He leaned forward, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face, careful not to disturb the bandages.

He stayed with her throughout the night, not budging from her bedside even when Aguilaar and Judith came to check on her.

Dawn was approaching when he heard the door open again.

After watching him from the doorway, Antonia took a careful step forward.

Her lips curved into a sympathetic smile as she walked towards him with her eyes on Annabelle.

Her voice was soft as she spoke, her tone soothing. “Dante, you have been up all night. You need to rest, you know. She is not going anywhere.”

No response.

She was silent for a while as she stood at the other side of the bed, her hand moved towards the IV tube before she seemed to change her mind at the last minute.

She gave a delicate sigh before saying, “Perhaps this was inevitable. Annabelle…” She paused, her gaze flicking at the unconscious woman on the bed. “Well, she acted recklessly, didn’t she? I mean, look at what she did to me. God knows what else she got into out there. A woman like her… it’s no wonder she ends up like this. I think she brought this on…”

Dante’s head snapped up, and the look he levelled at her was pure venom.

His silence was icy, and Antonia’s fingers curled around the edge of her sleeve as his gaze cut through her.

For a brief, harrowing moment, Dante looked like he might actually strike her, and she took a small step back.

“Excuse me?” he hissed, his voice dangerously low, the words edged with a sharpness that made her flinch. “Are you implying she deserved this?”

Antonia blinked, taken aback by his ferocity.

She attempted to maintain her calm, yet her smile faltered.

“No, no… not like that,” she stammered, the hint of anxiety in her voice betraying her. “I just meant that she doesn’t understand her place. Look at how ungrateful she was to you and ran away. All I did was show her friendship too and she…” She stopped talking when his look only turned more grave. Still, she added," I’m only concerned about her, as you are, you know.”

His jaw was rigid, eyes narrowed with a cold anger. “Antonia, if I were you, I’d leave now,” he warned, his tone rough with tightly held restraint. “Say one more thing against her, and I swear, you’ll regret it.”

Her face fell as she registered the intensity of his words. She was taken aback, clearly never having anticipated this level of defence for Annabelle.

She opened her mouth to apologise, but his frosty look stopped her.

His raised brow was enough to let her know he wasn’t going to repeat his suggestion either.

His attention shifted immediately back to Annabelle, not paying any attention to Antonia as she left the room.

Dante sat beside Annabelle, his hands resting on the edge of the bed as he watched her face, his expression softening in a way that would have shocked anyone who knew him.

For years, he’d guarded his emotions like a fortress, a shield against the world.

But here, in this quiet moment, with her vulnerable form lying before him, that shield had cracked.

He doubted if he had been this vulnerable even with Isabella. He waited for the always-present guilt to crash into him because of that thought. But he felt nothing of such.

Nothing but concern for the unconscious woman before.

“When would she wake up?” he wondered in exasperation as the morning sun peeked through the drawn curtain.

He leaned forward, his voice a soft murmur, meant only for her ears. “You stubborn woman,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in a brief, rare gesture of tenderness. “You obviously hate me, yet somehow you’ve made me want to fight for you. I swear I will make you see reason. You are mine to protect, and the world will know that.”

Hours passed, and he stood by her side when Aguillar came in to take care of her.

The day wore on, but he barely noticed the time slipping by.

The house was still, and even his men gave him a wide berth, sensing the wrath that simmered beneath his silence.