The cold, damp air clung to Alessia’s skin as they moved silently through the shadows. The docks were alive with the low hum of machinery and the distant sound of waves crashing against the pier, but neither she nor Dante noticed. Their minds were too focused, their bodies coiled tightly as they prepared for what lay ahead.

Alessia’s eyes swept the area, assessing the guards, the positions, the potential threats. She moved instinctively, years of training guiding her every step. But beneath the calm exterior, her thoughts were racing. Marco’s life is on the line. And if they failed tonight, it wouldn’t just be his life—it would be the final crack in Dante’s empire. In him.

She stole a glance at Dante, his face set in stone, his eyes sharp and deadly. He moved like a predator, every step controlled, every motion precise. But Alessia knew him well enough by now to sense the turbulence underneath. His need for control, for revenge, was a constant battle against the fear of losing someone he trusted—someone who had stood by him through everything.

Does he fear losing me too? The thought came unbidden, and Alessia quickly pushed it away. There was no time for that. Not now. Not when everything they’d built was hanging by a thread.

Dante’s mind, too, was a storm. Each step toward Sergei’s stronghold was another reminder of how precarious his position had become. Marco’s capture was a blow to his power, a sign that Sergei was slipping through his grasp, and worse—targeting his inner circle. I should’ve seen this coming.

But what gnawed at Dante the most was the realization that his focus had shifted. Alessia had become more than a trusted ally; she had become a distraction. He had let her get too close, and now, because of it, Marco was paying the price. If anything happened to his second-in-command tonight, he’d never forgive himself.

Dante’s eyes flicked to Alessia beside him, her form blending into the shadows with a grace that sent a surge of admiration—and something deeper—through him. He hated that she’d become important to him, hated the vulnerability it brought. But what was worse, he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop her from slipping through the cracks in his carefully constructed walls.

She’s a liability, he reminded himself. But the words rang hollow. In truth, Alessia had proven time and time again that she wasn’t just capable; she was invaluable. Still, there was something about her that terrified him. Something about the way she looked at him, like she saw more than the ruthless king of the underworld. Like she saw the man behind the power.

As they neared the warehouse where Marco was being held, Alessia’s thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the past. Back to a time when she had trusted someone as deeply as Dante trusted Marco. Victor Antonov. His name was a stain on her soul, a constant reminder of how easily trust could be shattered, how quickly love could turn into betrayal.

She hadn’t told Dante the full story. Not yet. And a part of her wondered if she ever could. How could she explain the mess of her past, the way Victor had manipulated her, used her? How could she confess that the very man they were now facing—the man who had captured Marco—was the same one she had once loved?

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But it was more than that. Victor had been her undoing. He had seen her vulnerabilities and used them to turn her into something she barely recognized. And now, standing beside Dante, she feared history might repeat itself. I can’t let Dante down like I let myself down with Victor.

They stopped at the edge of the docks, hidden behind a stack of shipping containers. Dante gave a silent signal, his men moving into position around the perimeter. The plan was simple—strike hard and fast before Sergei’s men had a chance to regroup.

But nothing about this felt simple. Not for Alessia, who was balancing on the edge of her past and present, and certainly not for Dante, who was teetering between vengeance and the nagging realization that everything was becoming personal.

“Ready?” Dante’s voice was low, but it cut through her thoughts like a blade.

Alessia nodded, her grip tightening on her weapon. “I’m ready.”

But inside, she wasn’t sure. Not entirely. Because the closer they got to Sergei, the more she felt the old wounds opening, the more she feared what Victor might do if he was involved. Would he use her again? Would he reveal their past to Dante and shatter the fragile trust they had built?

Dante caught the flicker of doubt in her eyes, but he said nothing. He couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. Not now. He needed her sharp, focused. If Alessia faltered, everything would unravel. And deep down, he knew she was holding something back, something that could change everything.

But there was no time for questions. The mission was all that mattered now.

They moved as one, slipping through the shadows, taking out guards with swift, silent precision. Alessia’s heart pounded in her chest as they neared the warehouse, but her mind was steady. Focus. Keep it together. She had to keep her emotions locked down if they were going to survive this.

But as they breached the warehouse, chaos erupted. Gunfire echoed through the space, the sharp crack of bullets ricocheting off metal crates. Dante moved like a force of nature, his shots precise, deadly. Alessia was right beside him, her movements fluid and lethal. But amidst the gunfire, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure.

Victor.

Her heart stuttered, the sight of him pulling her back into a past she had buried. His cold, calculating gaze swept the room, landing on her with a smirk that twisted her stomach. He was here. And suddenly, everything she had feared about this moment came crashing down.

Victor’s voice cut through the chaos, loud enough for Dante to hear. “Ah, Alessia... I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Dante’s head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. What the hell is this?

Alessia froze, her breath catching in her throat. Victor’s words hung between them like a noose tightening around her neck. She knew what was coming next. The truth she had hidden for so long was about to be dragged into the light.

Dante’s gaze hardened as he turned toward Victor, his gun aimed at the man who had caused him so much pain. But now, there was something else—something darker in his eyes. “What’s your play, Antonov?” Dante growled.

Victor’s smirk widened. “Oh, Dante. You’re smart enough to know this isn’t about you. It’s about her.”

Alessia’s heart dropped, the ground shifting beneath her. She opened her mouth to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. All she could see was the look in Dante’s eyes—betrayal, confusion, anger.

Victor’s voice was a snake, wrapping around her throat. “Tell him, Alessia. Tell him how we used to know each other. Intimately.”

Dante’s face was a mask of stone, but she could see the cracks forming, could feel the shift in the air between them. And in that moment, she knew—this wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about trust. And hers had just been shattered.

I’ve lost him.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Victor’s men were closing in, and Dante was already moving, his focus shifting back to the fight. But Alessia knew the damage had been done. Whatever they had built, whatever fragile trust had been growing between them, was crumbling beneath the weight of her secrets.

As they fought their way through the warehouse, Alessia’s mind raced. I have to fix this. I have to explain. But how could she? How could she explain that the man who had betrayed Dante now held the key to her past?

And as the gunfire died down and the last of Sergei’s men fell, Alessia looked at Dante, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were cold, focused on Victor, who had been captured and was now being dragged toward them.

For the first time since they had met, Alessia felt truly alone.

And she feared that no matter how hard she fought, no matter what she said—Dante would never trust her again.