Night fell heavy over the Romano mansion. The city outside whispered with danger, and the underworld buzzed with rumors—Dante Romano's enemies were moving again.
Inside, Elena tucked Arianna into bed. The little girl clung to her bunny and whispered,
"Don't leave me, Elena. Promise?"
"I promise," Elena said softly, brushing Arianna's curls from her face.
She stayed until the child's breathing evened out. When she stepped into the hallway, she nearly bumped into Dante. He stood there in his black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, veins along his forearms tense as he adjusted the watch on his wrist.
"Come with me," he ordered.
Elena hesitated. "Shouldn't I stay with Arianna—"
"Marco is guarding her," he cut in. His tone brooked no argument.
He led her downstairs into the dimly lit study. A large table was covered with maps, photographs, and red-marked circles. His men stood around, armed and serious.
Dante gestured at the table.
"This… is the world my daughter lives in. The world you stepped into."
Elena swallowed hard. She had never seen so many guns in one place before.
Suddenly, Marco burst in.
"Boss, they hit one of our warehouses. Someone betrayed us."
The room tensed. Dante's jaw tightened, and for a moment, the air felt like it could shatter.
His cold eyes landed on Elena. She stiffened.
"You came here with a clean record. But betrayal always comes from those who seem harmless."
Her heart raced. "You think I—?"
"Quiet." His voice was sharp, commanding silence.
One of his men placed a gun on the table, sliding it toward Dante. The boss picked it up and held it—not at her, but close enough that the metal's gleam made her blood run cold.
"Look me in the eyes, Elena," Dante said, stepping close. His breath brushed her cheek. "If you have even one secret… one reason to hurt my daughter… I will find it."
Her voice trembled, but her eyes didn't break away. "I'm not your enemy."
The tension was broken by a sudden explosion outside—the sound of gunfire rattled the windows.
"Boss, they're here!" Marco shouted.
Chaos erupted. Men rushed to their stations, weapons drawn. Dante grabbed Elena's wrist and pulled her to the corner.
"Stay down. Don't move until I say."
But Arianna's terrified scream pierced through the halls.
"Papa!"
Elena's instincts overrode her fear. She bolted toward the stairs. Dante cursed under his breath, chasing after her.
When they reached the hallway, masked gunmen had already breached the mansion. Elena threw herself in front of Arianna's bedroom door, shielding the little girl with her own body.
A gunman raised his weapon at her—
BANG!
The man fell instantly, a bullet between his eyes. Dante stood behind him, gun smoking, his face carved with fury.
He scooped Arianna into his arms, holding her tight. The child sobbed into his chest, trembling.
Elena, still pressed against the wall, was shaking too—but she hadn't moved. She had stayed. Protected Arianna with her own life.
Dante's eyes met hers over his daughter's shoulder. For once, the cold Mafia boss didn't see a nanny. He saw something much more dangerous.
Someone he might not be able to let go.
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