Chapter 5 - The Wolves at the Door
Transitioning from a cramped studio apartment in Astoria to a multi-million-dollar Manhattan fortress felt like stepping into an alternate universe. For the first three days, I was surrounded by a whirlwind of private security briefings, wardrobe fittings with high-end designers who arrived at the estate with racks of designer clothes, and medical checkups ordered by an excessively cautious Dante.
Yet, despite the luxury, the reality of Dante’s world quickly caught up to us.
It was the fourth evening. I was sitting in the massive, glass-walled library on the second floor, trying to read a historical novel while Orion dozed peacefully across my feet. The heavy double doors burst open, and Dante strode in, his charcoal coat slung over one shoulder, his tie loosened, and his expression carved from absolute ice.
Behind him hurried his lead enforcer, a hulking man named Marcus with a jagged scar running down his jawline.
"Boss, Rossi's men have been spotted moving into our territory downtown," Marcus said, his voice urgent. "They’re testing our perimeter near the Meatpacking District. Word is, Salvatore Rossi got wind that we pulled an unknown woman out of a restaurant and brought her straight to the estate. He's sniffing around for a weakness."
Dante stopped dead in his tracks. His gray eyes snapped toward Marcus, gleaming with cold, lethal fury.
"Rossi thinks he can use Elena to get to me?" Dante asked, his voice dangerously low.
"He doesn't know who she is yet," Marcus replied, glancing nervously at me. "Not officially. But if he connects the dots to Thomas Marshall's bloodline, he’ll try to use her as leverage to renegotiate the drug and shipping corridors."
My heart skipped a beat. The book slipped from my lap, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Orion immediately sat up, his ears perking forward, a low, menacing growl rumbling deep in his chest.
Dante turned around, his long strides eating up the distance across the room until he stood right in front of me. He knelt down, ignoring the dog entirely, and grabbed both of my hands in his. His grip was firm, grounding, and fiercely protective.
"Look at me, Elena," he commanded softly.
I looked up into his intense eyes.
"You are safe here. Do you understand me? Nothing—not Rossi, not an army of his men—will ever set foot in this house while breathing."
"Dante, I didn't ask for this war," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Your enemies are coming because of me."
"My enemies are coming because of them, not you," Dante corrected fiercely, gesturing vaguely to the city outside. "They are wolves waiting for a sign of weakness. But I am not weak. And I will burn this city to ash before I let anyone lay a finger on you."
The raw, unadulterated devotion in his voice washed away my fear, replacing it with a strange, intoxicating warmth. This ruthless mob boss, feared by millions, was looking at me as if I were the only anchor holding his chaotic world together.
Before I could answer, a sudden, deafening crash echoed from the front courtyard downstairs—followed by the sharp, unmistakable crack of gunfire.
May you like
Marcus instantly drew his weapon, shouting into his radio. "We're breached! South gate perimeter is under attack!"
Dante stood up in a fraction of a second, his expression turning into that of an apex predator ready to defend his den.
