Chapter 6: Blood Tells
Dante stood silent as the weight of truth crashed around him.
They're mine.
The words weren't spoken, but they didn't need to be. Evelyn's silence was louder than any confession. Her face had always betrayed her, no matter how carefully she tried to wear her masks.
He'd seen a thousand liars in his life. She wasn't one of them.
Dante turned his back to her and moved to the wet bar across the room. His hand closed tightly around a crystal decanter of scotch. Not to drink. Just to feel something solid. Something breakable.
He poured, then paused. "How old are they?"
Evelyn's voice came quietly, reluctantly. "Five."
Dante closed his eyes.
Five.
Five years of not knowing. Five birthdays he missed. First steps, first words, fevers, nightmares. He hadn't even known their names.
"You ran," he said coldly.
"I had to."
"No, you chose to."
She flinched, and his words landed like a blade. He turned back to her, drink in hand, but untouched. His dark gaze burned into her like coals buried under ice.
"You took my sons from me."
"They were safer without you," she snapped. "Without your world. Your enemies. Your blood."
He moved fast—glass slamming down on the bar, footsteps eating the distance between them. He didn't touch her, but he didn't need to. His presence was force enough.
"You don't get to judge my blood when you climbed into my bed knowing damn well who I was."
Evelyn's chin lifted, but her lower lip trembled.
"You think I wanted this?" she asked, voice breaking. "You think I wanted to raise two boys alone, watching my back every day, praying to God they never ask me who their father is?"
His jaw flexed.
She swallowed hard. "I didn't disappear to punish you, Dante. I disappeared because people like you don't let women walk away."
He stared at her.
Not the Evelyn he remembered in silk and skin and fire.
This Evelyn was tired. Weathered. Beautiful still, but laced with something stronger than seduction.
Motherhood had changed her.
So had fear.
And he hated that. Hated how much of it had his fingerprints.
A knock on the door.
Then it opened, and Niccolo entered—tall, broad, sharp as a blade. He nodded at Dante, then cast a wary glance at Evelyn.
"Boss, we've got a situation."
Dante's eyes narrowed. "What kind of situation?"
Niccolo hesitated. "A tail. Two men. They were following her car."
Dante's gaze snapped back to Evelyn.
"You were followed here?"
Her face paled.
"No," she said quickly. "I made sure. I didn't—" She cut off. "I was careful."
"Apparently not careful enough."
Niccolo handed him a phone. On the screen: grainy security footage of a black sedan. Two men in dark jackets, faces partially obscured.
"Recognize them?" Dante asked.
Evelyn stared. Her stomach dropped. The taller one—something about his build was familiar. But she couldn't place it.
"No," she lied.
Dante handed the phone back. "Find out who they are. Now."
Niccolo nodded and left.
Dante turned back to Evelyn. His voice was quieter now. Not softer—just colder.
"Are you going to tell me why you came back? Or do I need to get the truth another way?"
"I told you—"
"You haven't told me anything."
"I came because I didn't have a choice."
"Someone forced you?" he asked. "Who?"
She shook her head. "I'm not ready to talk about that."
He stepped closer.
"You think I'm your enemy," he said. "You're wrong. I'm the only thing standing between those boys and the men who want to use them against me."
She stiffened. "How do you know that's what they want?"
"Because if you were followed here," he said, voice sharp, "they weren't just watching you. They were watching them."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Evelyn looked down at her trembling hands.
"Dante," she whispered, voice cracking. "I don't know who they are. I swear. But someone's been watching us. There've been notes. Calls with no voice. I thought… I thought maybe if I came to you…"
Her eyes met his.
"…you'd protect them."
Dante nodded once. The change in him was instant—like a switch flipped.
Emotion turned to steel. Doubt turned to fury.
"They're mine," he said. "And no one touches what's mine."
---
Meanwhile, miles away…
A dark office. Monitors glowing in a dim room.
The footage of Evelyn entering the Obsidian Club played on repeat.
"She went to him," a voice muttered.
A second man stood by the window, lighting a cigarette.
"She blinked first," he said. "Just like we knew she would."
The first man smiled.
"Good," he said. "Now the fun begins."