Elena's POV
It was nearly midnight when the noise woke her.
At first she thought it was a dream, a faint clatter from somewhere below like glass hitting marble. Then she heard the low murmur of voices, sharp and tense, carried up the stairwell.
Her heart thudded once, hard.
Mateo stirred beside her half asleep. "Mom?" he whispered.
"Shh," she murmured smoothing his hair. "Go back to sleep baby. It's okay."
But it wasn't.
Something in the air had changed, the kind of change that had no sound, no scent, but pressed against the skin like static.
She slipped quietly from the bed, wrapped her robe around herself and crept toward the door. A sliver of light glowed from the hallway. She eased it open just enough to listen.
Footsteps. Heavy. Quick.
Voices again, lower this time. A man's tone, clipped, commanding.
Dante.
She stepped into the corridor before her fear could talk her out of it. The air smelled faintly of gun oil and rain. Two guards passed at the far end, moving with urgency. When they saw her one of them froze.
"Signora Marquez, please return to your room."
"What's happening?" she whispered.
The guard's jaw tightened. "Everything is fine."
She knew that tone. It was the same one paramedics used when they didn't want to tell a mother her child wouldn't make it.
Before she could press him another voice cut through the hall.
"Elena."
Her pulse jumped. Dante was striding toward her dressed in black, sleeves rolled up, tension carved into every line of his body. His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them.
"I told you to stay upstairs" he said.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"Don't lie to me."
His expression hardened, not angry but calculating. For a moment she saw the other side of him, the one people whispered about in alleys and police files. The man who made decisions that ended lives.
Finally he exhaled. "One of the guards on the east perimeter was found unconscious. He'll live, but…."
"But someone got in?" she asked.
His silence was answer enough.
Her breath caught. "You said this place was safe."
"It is" he said stepping closer. "Because now I know they're watching. And I'll be ready."
"They? Who are they?"
"The same people you saw that night. The ones who want you dead before you talk."
She swallowed hard, every sound around her fading until it was only his voice and the thunder of her heartbeat.
He reached out resting a hand lightly on her arm. "You and your son will stay with me. My wing. Until I find out who's behind this."
Her instinct was to pull away, to argue, to refuse but something in his tone told her it wasn't a request. It was a vow.
Dante's POV
He hated the look in her eyes, the mix of fear and accusation.
He'd failed once before. He wouldn't do it again.
He'd built this house to be impenetrable, but no fortress was perfect. Every wall had cracks, every man had a price. The breach wasn't just a threat, it was a message. Someone out there knew she mattered to him now.
That made her a target and that meant she would stay close, whether she liked it or not.
He guided her back toward the west hall, his hand at her back. He could feel the tremor in her spine through the thin fabric of her robe but she kept her head high.
Even in fear she refused to break.
When they reached his quarters he opened the door for her. The room beyond was darker, quieter. Heavy curtains drawn. A faint scent of smoke and cedar in the air.
"You'll stay here tonight" he said.
She looked around uncertain. "And where will you be?"
He nodded toward the adjoining room. "There. The door stays open."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"This isn't about what you need" he said, his voice low but steady. "It's about keeping you alive."
For a moment she held his gaze, fire meeting stone. Then she turned away and walked toward the window.
"You think this is normal don't you?" she whispered. "Living like this. Always waiting for someone to bleed."
He didn't answer. Because she wasn't wrong.
Elena's POV
She stood by the window long after he left the room.
Outside the gardens were silver in the moonlight, beautiful and still like a painting too perfect to be real but somewhere beyond those walls someone had broken through. Someone was watching.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, pale, tense, eyes wide. The face of a woman who'd fallen into a world she didn't understand.
And the man guarding her was part of that world.
She turned at the faint sound of a door creaking. Dante stood in the doorway between their rooms, jacket off, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His gun rested on the nightstand beside him.
He looked… human like this. Tired. Unarmored.
"Can you sleep?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not while someone out there wants me dead."
He nodded once as if that were reasonable. "Then don't sleep. Stay alert. I'll be awake too."
She almost smiled. "That supposed to make me feel better?"
"Probably not."
Silence filled the space again, heavy but not uncomfortable.
He moved closer to check the window locks, methodical, precise. She watched the way his hands worked, steady, confident, practiced.
"You've done this before" she said quietly.
He glanced at her. "What?"
"Protected people. Hidden them."
His jaw tensed. "Yes."
"Did they all live?"
The pause that followed was answer enough.
"I'm not them" she said surprising herself.
His eyes met hers, dark, unreadable. "No," he murmured. "You're not."
Something shifted in that moment. Not a word, not a gesture, just something in the air between them. The distance that had kept them safe started to feel like a lie.
Dante's POV
He told himself to walk away. To keep the door open but his distance wider.
But she stood there, barefoot by the window, moonlight painting her in silver. Fear and defiance tangled in her posture. He'd seen that look in soldiers before a fight, terrified but ready to face it anyway.
He admired it. Too much.
"You should rest" he said quietly.
"I can't."
Her voice was soft, fragile around the edges.
He moved to the small bar in the corner, poured a splash of whiskey into a glass and handed it to her. She hesitated before taking it. Their fingers brushed, barely but the contact sent something sharp and alive down his spine.
She took a sip then met his gaze. "You're used to people obeying you aren't you?"
He gave a low laugh, one without humor. "You're the exception."
"Maybe you need one."
The words hit harder than she realized. He looked at her for a long time, studying the lines of her face, the shadows under her eyes.
"You don't understand what you're saying" he said finally.
"Maybe not" she whispered. "But you don't either."
He turned away before she could see the truth in his expression, that she was right.
Elena's POV
Hours later she still couldn't sleep.
The mansion had gone quiet again, though every so often she heard footsteps from the hall, guards changing shifts maybe. The door between their rooms was half open, casting a sliver of warm light across the floor.
She could see his shadow move now and then. The shape of him, tall, deliberate pacing.
For a reason she couldn't explain, that made her feel safer than any lock on the door.
At some point exhaustion won. She lay down beside Mateo, eyes heavy, the soft glow from the other room her last anchor to consciousness.
Dante's POV
When the call came through his phone it was nearly dawn.
A voice from the gate. "We caught someone near the eastern wall boss. Camera blind spot."
"Alive?" Dante asked.
"Barely."
"Hold him. I'll be there in ten."
He ended the call and looked toward the connecting doorway.
Elena slept finally, one arm draped protectively over her son. For the first time since he'd brought them here her face was peaceful.
He hesitated before turning away, something unfamiliar tightening in his chest.
She'd seen too much already of his world, of him. But what frightened him most wasn't her fear.
It was that part of him that no longer wanted her to leave.