I came to kill a man. He folded a shirt, poured me whiskey, and pressed a handkerchief to my bleeding palm like it was sacred.
Dante Costa. Tall. Crescent scar on his jaw. One silver streak in his hair. He moves like danger disguised as ease. He guards with a grin. He smells of leather and citrus and makes my teeth ache. He belongs to a family that writes rules in blood. He can protect me — or make me collateral.
We collide and it burns. He drags me into his world. Enzo snarls questions. A photo of me in a stairwell lands under my door. Marco texts: remember the terms. Men in black come for answers and find Dante instead. He fights like a man who knows how to make threats pay. He claims me with fingers on my ribs and bullets at the stair. We steal a rooftop kiss and a plan: expose Marco or die trying.
Now there’s a choice with teeth. I can hand myself over and try to spare him. Or I can stay and make him a target.
I choose him. Will that be enough to keep us both alive?
Dante Costa. Tall. Crescent scar on his jaw. One silver streak in his hair. He moves like danger disguised as ease. He guards with a grin. He smells of leather and citrus and makes my teeth ache. He belongs to a family that writes rules in blood. He can protect me — or make me collateral.
We collide and it burns. He drags me into his world. Enzo snarls questions. A photo of me in a stairwell lands under my door. Marco texts: remember the terms. Men in black come for answers and find Dante instead. He fights like a man who knows how to make threats pay. He claims me with fingers on my ribs and bullets at the stair. We steal a rooftop kiss and a plan: expose Marco or die trying.
Now there’s a choice with teeth. I can hand myself over and try to spare him. Or I can stay and make him a target.
I choose him. Will that be enough to keep us both alive?