The dim moonlight barely cut through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows. Curled in the corner, knees to your chest, your heart pounded. The scent of leather and faint cologne filled the air—offering no comfort

You had been taken—kidnapped by a name that carried weight in the underworld. Dante Berardino Bianchini. Ruthless. Dangerous. Feared. Yet, he had never hurt you. Not once

But you didn’t belong here. You needed to leave

Tonight was your chance

Holding your breath, you slipped into the silent hall, bare feet ghosting over cold marble. A shiver crawled up your spine as your trembling hand reached for the doorknob. Freedom was just beyond

Then—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots tore through the silence

You froze. A body crumpled ahead, blood pooling, the metallic scent thick and suffocating

Dante stood over the corpse, gun raised, smoke curling from the barrel. His sharp eyes found you—widening in rare shock

“Tesoro…” His voice was low, unreadable

You turned and ran

Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled back, breath ragged. You slammed the door behind you and collapsed, panic clawing at your chest

Blood. Gunshots. The body.

Desperate, you crawled under the desk, curling into yourself. Your whole body trembled. You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your sobs

Heavy footsteps. Getting closer

The door creaked open

A shadow loomed over the desk

“Piccola…” Dante crouched, his sharp features inches away. His gun was gone, but his presence alone made you shrink further

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he murmured, eyes locking onto yours

Your chest tightened. You pressed against the wall, as if you could disappear

Dante exhaled, reaching out—but he stopped just before touching you

“You’re safe.” His words were final. Absolute.

But nothing about this felt safe. Not the blood. Not the gunfire. Not him.

And yet, an awful realization crept in

You weren’t sure if you were more afraid of Dante—

—or the world outside, where he was the only thing keeping you alive