Ruthless Devotion:His innocent captive

Chapter six: The Shattered Door

The explosion wasn't a loud boom like in the movies. It was a sharp, deafening c***k that rattled the teeth in my skull.

The security monitors on the wall instantly went black as the blast shattered the cameras outside. The lights inside the small panic room flickered twice before dying completely, plunging me into pitch darkness. The heavy steel door groaned under the force of the blast, and a thick cloud of acrid, gray smoke poured through the newly warped frame, making me cough violently.

My heart felt like it was going to burst right out of my chest. I scrambled backward in the dark until my hands hit the cold brick wall behind the cot. I was trapped.

A second later, the metallic screech of grinding steel echoed through the small space. Someone was shoving the ruined door open.

The beam of a powerful tactical flashlight sliced through the darkness, blinding me. I blocked my eyes with my forearm, weeping as the silhouette of a large man stepped over the debris and into the room. He was wearing full black gear, his face completely hidden behind a fabric mask.

"Found her," the man grunted into something like a radio that was pinned to his shoulder. His voice was cold, completely robotic. "The asset is secure. Moving to the extraction point."

"No! Get away from me! Don't come close" I screamed, grabbing a heavy metal flashlight from the floor near the cot and throwing it at him with all the strength I had left.

It hit his shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch. In two strides, he closed the distance between us. His large, gloved hand clamped tightly around my upper arm, dragging me off the floor like I weighed absolutely nothing.

I thrashed against his grip, kicking at his shins and scratching at his thick vest, even biting him till I tasted blood but it was like fighting a statue.

"Stop moving or I’ll break your legs," he growled, shoving a rough cloth over my mouth.

The sweet, chemical smell of chloroform instantly filled my nose. My lungs burned as I tried to hold my breath, but my body was too panicked. I took one involuntary gasp, inhaling the fumes.

My limbs immediately felt heavy, like lead. The flashlight beam began to spin in circles, and the red emergency lights fading in from the hallway blurred together into a muddy puddle of color. My knees gave out, and I sank into the darkness.

When my eyes finally fluttered open, the cold smell of damp concrete was gone. Instead, the air smelled intensely of leather, metallic gunpowder, and a scent I was starting to recognize anywhere…Dante's rich cologne.

I groaned, a massive ache throbbing behind my temples as I tried to sit up. I was lying on the velvet duvet of the master bedroom, the red emergency lights still pulsing rhythmically against the glass balcony doors.

The storm outside had passed like it never happened, but the house was dead silent.

"Don't move too fast," a deep, raspy voice murmured from the shadows near the fireplace. “You are still healing”.

I gasped, pulling the blanket up to my chin as Dante stepped into the light. He looked like an absolute demon. His white dress shirt was completely gone, leaving his heavily tattooed chest bare. A long, shallow cut was bleeding slowly across his ribs, and his knuckles were split open, stained with dark blood that wasn't his own.

He was still holding his handgun, his fingers wrapped loosely around the grip.

"Dante," I whispered, my voice completely dry. I looked around the room, expecting to see the masked men. "What... what happened to me? The door blew up. Someone took me."

"They didn't get too far," Dante said. He walked over to the edge of the bed, his footsteps heavy and slow. He set his gun down on the nightstand with a lazy thud, then sat down on the mattress right next to my hips. The mattress dipped heavily under his weight. "I caught them at the edge of the woods. The man who touched you is dead."

I shuddered, closing my eyes tight, imagining the man's eyes closed in death. The casual way he spoke about killing someone made my stomach turn, but at the same time, a twisted sense of relief washed over me.

I was back in his hands. The monster I knew had saved me from the monsters I didn't know.

Dante reached out, his large, rough hand cupping the back of my neck in a gentle yet possessive manner. His fingers were warm, leading me to the bed as he forced me to look up into his stormy gray eyes.

The cold, lethal focus he had during the shootout was gone, replaced by that same dark, heavy possessiveness from before the alarm went off.

"They were Lucchese men," Dante murmured, his thumb sliding slowly along my jawline, checking for bruises. His touch was firm, almost bruisingly tight, as if he was convincing himself I was still real. "My rivals. They didn't want the money, Clara. They wanted you because they knew you were my leverage. They wanted to use you to get to me."

"I don't care about your mafia wars," I sobbed, a fresh tear sliding down my cheek, wetting his thumb. "I just want to go home. Please, Dante. Just let me go. I'll change my name. I'll disappear. They won't find me."

Dante leaned in closer, his chest almost touching my knees. A slow, dangerous chuckle touched his lips, but his eyes remained completely cold.

"It's too late for that, piccola," he whispered, his warm breath brushing against my lips. "The whole city knows you belong to Dante Vitale now. If I let you walk out of those gates, you wouldn't survive an hour before someone else snatched you up to get to me."

He slid his hand from my neck down to my shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of my t-shirt, pinning me gently against the pillows.

"You are safer in my bed than anywhere else in this world," Dante murmured, his gaze dropping to my mouth. "And whether you like it or not, you are staying right here."

His mouth grazed mine in the heat making me to forget my panic for a moment.