The fountain's song faded behind them as Serena and Ethan strolled down the quiet street, their hands brushing until Ethan boldly laced his fingers through hers. The warmth of his palm made her heart flutter, but it was the ease of it — the way it felt natural, like their hands had always been meant to find each other — that made her cheeks glow in the night air.
Neither of them spoke at first. There was no need. The world seemed hushed, as if the city itself had paused to give them this moment. The streetlamps glowed amber, painting Serena's hair in soft light, and Ethan couldn't help stealing glances at her, every few steps.
"What?" she asked finally, catching him. Her lips curved, a mix of shyness and amusement.
"Nothing," Ethan said, though his eyes betrayed him. "It's just… you look different tonight."
Serena blinked. "Different? Like… bad different?"
He shook his head quickly, tightening his grip on her hand. "No, not bad. Beautiful. But not just that." He studied her carefully, his expression softening into something serious. "You feel… stronger. Like there's this fire in you I didn't see before. It's kind of intimidating, actually."
Serena laughed, though the sound was a little self-conscious. "Intimidating? Me?"
"Yeah." Ethan grinned, bumping his shoulder lightly against hers. "Don't act surprised. You always sell yourself short, Serena. But tonight…" He trailed off, shaking his head as though words failed him. "You just seem… alive. More you."
Her heart did a little somersault at his words. For so long, she had been the quiet one, the girl who blended into the background. But with Ethan, it was like the world saw her differently — like he saw her differently. And maybe, just maybe, he was right.
She tilted her head. "And you're okay with that? Being intimidated?"
"Are you kidding?" Ethan smirked. "I love it. Means I have to work harder to keep up with you."
Serena laughed again, the sound carrying into the night, but something about Ethan's words clung to her. Stronger. A fire. Alive. Was she really changing? Or was it simply that, with Ethan beside her, she dared to show parts of herself she usually kept hidden?
She looked up at the sky, the stars faint against the haze of city lights, and whispered mostly to herself, "I hope I don't lose this."
Ethan's thumb brushed over her knuckles, pulling her gaze back to him. "You won't. Not with me."
The sincerity in his eyes was enough to make her chest ache.
They walked for blocks, trading jokes, teasing, and soft silences. Ethan bought her a cup of hot chocolate from a late-night vendor, insisting she take the last marshmallow. She retaliated by smearing a bit of whipped cream on his nose, and his mock-offended gasp made her laugh so hard her stomach hurt.
For those moments, the world was perfect.
But perfection never lasts.
The Unease
As they neared her street, Serena felt it — a shiver at the base of her neck, like invisible eyes pressing against her skin. She slowed slightly, glancing over her shoulder, but the street behind them was empty save for the faint glow of streetlights and the distant rumble of a car engine.
"What is it?" Ethan asked, noticing her hesitation.
"Nothing," she said too quickly, forcing a smile. "Just… thought I heard something."
Ethan stopped, scanning the street. His protective streak flared, that subtle tension in his shoulders she'd noticed before when guys stared too long at her in the café. "You sure?"
"Yes," she lied, tugging him forward. "Come on, don't ruin the night with paranoia."
But even as they walked, Serena couldn't shake the unease. It wasn't loud. It wasn't obvious. Just a hum beneath her skin, the sense of something lingering just out of sight. Watching. Waiting.
Dante's POV
From across the street, Dante leaned casually against a black sedan, the smoke of his cigar trailing upward, blending with the night. His eyes never left her.
She laughed again, head tilted back, hand gripping Ethan's. The boy looked at her like she was the center of the universe, but Dante saw something more.
Not softness. Not innocence.
Strength.
It was in the way she carried herself now, the subtle defiance in her shoulders, the spark in her eyes. She didn't even realize it yet, but Dante did. He recognized it instantly.
Vale's blood.
The memory of his old partner surfaced, sharp and bitter. That same fire had burned in Vale's gaze when they'd started out, building their empire together. Serena carried it now, unknowingly echoing the man who had betrayed him.
Dante's jaw clenched.
The boy — Ethan — noticed it too. Dante saw the way his gaze lingered on Serena, almost reverent. But where Ethan saw beauty, Dante saw inevitability. That fire was not meant for romance or laughter. It was meant for survival. For war.
And when the time came, she would need someone to teach her how to wield it. Not that boy. Him.
Back to Serena
They reached her house, the porch light casting a warm halo over the front steps. Serena turned to Ethan, reluctant to let the night end.
"I had a really good time," she said softly.
"Me too," Ethan replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered, gentle but full of meaning. "I'm glad you didn't cancel this time."
Serena laughed, embarrassed. "Yeah, I almost did."
"Don't ever do that again," he teased, though his tone was earnest beneath it. "I like being around you, Serena. More than you probably realize."
Her chest tightened, her pulse quickening. She wanted to say something back, something that matched his openness, but the words tangled in her throat. So instead, she leaned in, closing the space between them until his lips met hers.
The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, but it deepened quickly, warmth spreading through her as Ethan's arms slid around her waist. For a few endless seconds, there was no world beyond the two of them.
When they finally broke apart, Serena was breathless, her cheeks flushed. Ethan's grin was boyish, full of wonder, as if he'd just uncovered a treasure.
"Goodnight, Serena," he whispered.
"Goodnight," she echoed, watching him walk away until he disappeared down the street.
The Watching Shadow
She turned to unlock the door, but paused again. That feeling returned — heavier this time, undeniable. She glanced around, scanning the quiet street. Nothing.
And yet…
Across the road, Dante exhaled slowly, crushing the cigar under his heel. He stepped back into the shadows, his coat swaying with the motion.
The fire was there. Growing.
He would let her enjoy her kisses and laughter, let her cling to the illusion of safety for a little while longer. But soon enough, the past would catch her.
Vale's sins were written into her blood.
And Dante always collected.