The night passed with uneasy peace. Elena woke before dawn, Arianna still curled between them, her tiny hand resting over both their palms. For a brief moment, it felt almost… normal. Like family.
But Dante wasn't asleep. His grey eyes were open, fixed on Elena. His voice was low, dangerous in its softness.
"You shouldn't be here."
Elena swallowed, whispering back, careful not to wake Arianna. "Then why haven't you sent me away?"
His jaw clenched. He had no answer.
---
Later that morning, Marco stormed into the study, slamming a file on the desk.
"Boss, we traced the message. It came from inside the city. A rival crew. They're planning to take the girl—or the nanny—to break you."
Dante's blood ran cold, but his face showed only steel. "Let them try."
Elena overheard from the doorway. Her heart pounded. She hadn't asked for this life, yet now her name was marked by enemies she'd never met.
---
That afternoon, she took Arianna into the gardens, painting butterflies on paper while guards patrolled the perimeter. The child laughed, carefree for the first time since the attack. Elena smiled, but a shadow moved across the wall.
Too late.
Gunfire erupted. Men in masks stormed the gates. Chaos ripped through the garden. Guards shouted, returning fire. Elena grabbed Arianna, pulling her behind a marble statue.
"Don't move," she whispered, shielding the child with her body.
One of the gunmen spotted them, raising his weapon—
But Dante appeared like a storm, firing with deadly precision. Three men dropped in seconds. His fury was unmatched, his presence a wall of steel between his family and death.
"Elena!" he barked, grabbing her hand and yanking her to her feet. With Arianna in his other arm, he pulled them inside as his men secured the grounds.
---
Safe inside, Elena's hands shook violently. Dante noticed. Without thinking, he stepped closer, gripping her chin, forcing her eyes up to his.
"You're safe now." His voice was raw, not cold.
Her breath caught. His eyes weren't just grey—they burned, like storms held at bay. And for the first time, she saw not just the Mafia boss, but the man who would kill a thousand men to protect the two people standing before him.
"Why are they after me?" she whispered.
"Because you matter," Dante muttered before he realized the weight of his words.
Silence stretched, heavy and magnetic. Elena's heart raced, her lips parting. For a heartbeat, Dante leaned closer, the distance between them vanishing—
"Papa!" Arianna called, breaking the spell. She held up her painting, tears drying on her cheeks. "Don't fight anymore. Stay with us."
Dante pulled back, his mask snapping into place. He turned, brushing a kiss over Arianna's head. But as Elena watched him, she knew something had shifted.
Dante Romano's enemies had made a mistake.
They thought Elena was his weakness.
But tonight proved something far more dangerous.
She was becoming his strength.