The world smelled of antiseptic and iron. Beeping machines filled the silence, faint but steady, the rhythm of a fragile life clinging on. Serena lay pale against the hospital sheets, her chest bound in bandages, her lashes resting heavy on her cheeks.
For hours after the surgery, her mother hadn't moved from the chair at her bedside. One hand clutched Serena's limp fingers, the other pressed against her own lips to muffle sobs. Her shoulders shook with every memory of Vale, every echo of what it would mean to lose their daughter too.
Maya sat slumped in the corner, her scrubs streaked with Serena's blood. She had saved lives before, but never one that cut so close to the bone. Her voice was hoarse from shouting, from begging, from whispering her friend's name into the void.
Chloe and Jade hovered near the door. Jade's trembling hands rested over the curve of her stomach, her eyes red from crying. Chloe tried to lighten the silence, cracking a weak joke about how Serena owed her "a lifetime supply of coffee for scaring the hell out of us." No one laughed.
And then Dante entered.
He didn't ask permission. He didn't knock. He simply walked in, Andres a shadow at his side. The room's air shifted instantly — thickening, sharp, like glass about to shatter.
Her mother rose immediately, her eyes wild with fury and grief. "You—" she spat. "What are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?"
Dante's jaw flexed, but his eyes never left Serena's face. He stepped closer to the bed, his presence both protective and suffocating. "If it weren't for me," he said quietly, "your daughter wouldn't be breathing."
Her mother stiffened, choking on anger. "You think whispering in her ear gives you a right to her life?"
"I don't think," Dante murmured, finally dragging his gaze to her. His eyes were cold fire. "I know."
The tension cracked when Leo appeared at the door. He was pale, an IV still in his arm from donating blood, but his fury gave him strength. He shoved past Andres, ignoring the subtle warning in the man's stance, and faced Dante head-on.
"You don't get to stand here like some savior," Leo snapped, his voice raw. "You don't get to claim her."
Dante didn't even flinch. "And you don't get to lecture me when the blood in her veins is mine to protect."
"No," Leo shot back, stepping forward. "That's my blood in her veins. She's alive because of me, because I nearly killed myself for her! Not because of your theatrics."
For a long, taut moment, their eyes locked — Leo trembling with righteous anger, Dante immovable as stone. The air between them crackled, both men bound by the same desperate pull toward the girl who lay between life and death.
Andres cleared his throat lightly, the only one unbothered by the storm brewing in the room. "Maybe we should all take a deep breath before the hospital calls security, eh?"
But Dante ignored him. He leaned down, brushing his thumb against Serena's knuckles. The gesture was so gentle it was almost out of place against the violence etched into his frame.
"She was shot," Dante said, his voice low, dangerous. "In public. In my city. That means someone thought they could take her from me." His eyes flicked up, icy and sharp as blades. "They were wrong."
Her mother's voice wavered, caught between grief and rage. "You talk like she belongs to you. She doesn't. She's my daughter. Vale's daughter. And I will not let you drag her into whatever dark world you live in."
Dante didn't blink. "She was born into it the moment Vale made his choices."
The name hit the room like a gunshot. Silence followed. Maya looked up, startled. Chloe's jaw fell open. Jade's trembling worsened, her hand clamped over her stomach.
Her mother's face went white. "You… you stay away from her."
But Dante's expression was unreadable. He bent closer to Serena once more, his lips brushing against her hairline, so quiet only she could hear if she woke: "You're mine to protect, Serena. No bullet will take you from me."
He straightened, his coat shifting like shadow as he turned to Andres. "Find out who pulled that trigger. I want names. Families. Everyone they've ever broken bread with."
Andres smirked faintly, though his eyes gleamed with a predator's promise. "Already ahead of you, boss."
Leo clenched his fists, his eyes never leaving Dante. "You think this is about revenge. But she's not a pawn in your war."
"No," Dante replied softly, his gaze once again falling on Serena. "She's the reason I'll burn the board to ashes."
And with that, he left, the scent of danger clinging in his wake.
Behind him, the room buzzed with unspoken questions, with the heavy silence of truths no one was ready to face. Serena lay still, her chest rising and falling in fragile rhythm, caught between two worlds — and between two men willing to bleed for her.