One night, One secret

CHAPTER 6

ELENA’S POV

As Dante’s car cut through the night, the streets passed in a flicker of light and darkness. The engine hum was constant, too constant, as if it were the only thing keeping us tied up in the stupid silence that held the distance between us.

We hadn’t spoken much since we left the safehouse. My fingers twisted in my lap, nails piercing into the soft flesh of my palms as if that little sting might ground me. Across from me, Dante sat like marble, his broad shoulders pressed against the leather seat, his jaw held so tightly I thought it might c***k.

He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped over the gear. Every inch of him radiated controlled anger, and even though I told myself I wasn’t afraid of him, the truth was harder. My heart jumped every time his dark eyes looked toward me, quick and sharp, like a blade passing off skin.

We were going to pick up Luca.

The thought sound in my mind, loud and insistent. The boy I had raised alone. The boy who laughed with my smile but scowled with Dante’s eyes.

My secret.

His son.

“Where is he?” Dante’s voice cut through the silence, rough and deep, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I swallowed hard, keeping my gaze fixed on the dim streetlights outside. “With Mrs. Romano. She lives near the end of the district. He’s safe.”

“Safe,” Dante repeated, the word a growl. His hand tightened around the wheel. “You kept my son hidden in this city, under my nose, and call that safe?”

I flinched. “You would have taken him away from me the moment you knew.”

His laugh was bitter and humorless. “You think I wouldn’t have found a way to protect him? That I wouldn’t have given him everything?”

I turned then, heat rushing to my face. “Everything but me. You don’t get to stand there and pretend like you’re the savior in this, Dante. I did what I had to do to protect him from your world.”

Our gazes clashed, fire meeting fire, and for a moment, I forgot the danger of my words. But then his jaw flexed, and he looked away, staring through the windshield as though the night itself was pissing him off.

The silence thickened again. Only the low hum of the engine filled the void.

…

The neighborhood shifted as we drove through the bright city streets giving way to narrower lanes filled with old buildings. The deeper we went, the darker it became, the beam of the streetlights slowly dimmed out until only Dante’s headlights cut a path through the shadows.

My stomach knotted tighter with every turn. Luca had never met Dante. To him, his father was a ghost, a story I couldn’t quite tell. How would I explain this? That the man who had haunted my past was suddenly here, larger than life, demanding what I had protected for years?

“You should let me do the talking,” I murmured, breaking the silence before it suffocated me.

Dante’s eyes turned toward me, unreadable. “He’s my son, Elena. I won’t hide from him.”

“It’s not about hiding,” I said quickly. “He doesn’t know you. He’s just a boy, Dante. He doesn’t understand this…”

“This life?” His mouth curved, unrefined. “Whether you like it or not, Elena, he is part of this life. My blood runs in his veins.”

I bit my tongue until I tasted like copper. There was no point arguing now. The car slowed as we approached the familiar old street. My chest tightened as I recognized the worn shade, the old porch of Mrs. Romano’s house.

Dante killed the engine. Silence felt heavy, like a physical weight pressing against my ribs.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His hand flexed against the steering wheel, mine clenched in my lap.

Finally, Dante turned to me. His gaze was sharp, ruthless, but beneath it, I thought I saw something else…uncertainty, maybe even fear.

“Does he know?” he asked quietly.

The question pierced deeper than I expected. My throat tightened. “No. He doesn’t know you exist.”

His jaw clenched. Something passed through his eyes, something raw, something that almost made me soften. Almost.

He nodded once, sharply, then pushed open the door.

…

The night air was cool against my skin as I stepped out, the gravel crushing under my heels. Dante moved like a predator, every step purposeful, his presence filling the quiet street until it seemed smaller, darker.

We reached the porch. I hesitated, my hand lingering near the doorknob. Dante didn’t wait. He rapped his knuckles against the wood and pushed open.

Moments later, the door creaked open. Mrs. Romano appeared, her silver hair pulled into a neat bun, her kind eyes widening at the sight of us.

“Elena,” she breathed. Then her gaze turned to Dante, and her brows knitted in suspicion.

“It’s all right,” I said quickly. “We’ve come for Luca.”

She hesitated, studying Dante with a discerning mind that contradicts her age. Then, slowly, she stepped aside.

“He’s inside. Reading in the kitchen.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped past her, Dante close behind.

…

The warmth of the Romano house wrapped around me, the smell of boiled tomatoes and baked bread clinging to the air. My heart pumped fast as we reached the kitchen doorway.

And there he was.

Luca sat at the table, a book open in front of him, his small fingers tracing the words. His dark hair fell over his forehead, stubborn and messy, and when he looked up….

My chest tightened. Those eyes. Deep, stormy brown, sharp.

Dante’s eyes.

“Mom?” Luca blinked, closing his book. “You’re back.”

“Yes, baby,” I whispered, forcing a smile. “I’m back.”

His gaze shifted, catching on the tall figure beside me. “Who’s that?”

The world seemed to stop. My breath caught, my pulse raced loudly in my ears. Dante stepped forward, his shadow stretching long across the tiled floor.

For once, there was no steel in his voice, only a rough, quiet weight.

“I’m your father.”

The word hung heavy in the air.

Luca’s eyes widened. He glanced at me, confusion written all over his face, then back at Dante. “My… father?”

I opened my mouth, desperate to soften the blow, but Dante was already kneeling, bringing himself to Luca’s level. His large hand rested lightly on the edge of the table, careful and calm.

“Yes,” he said. “Your father. I should have been here sooner. But I’m here now.”

Luca studied him, carefully and curious all at once. He looked so small in that moment, caught between the safety of what he knew and the storm of what he didn’t.

I held my breath, my heart twisting.

Would he run? Would he cry?

Instead, Luca’s brow furrowed. “Do you like soccer?”

The tension cracked. I blinked, stunned. Dante’s lips twitched, almost…almost…into a smile.

“I used to play,” he said.

Luca’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can you show me sometime?”

Dante’s gaze turned to me, unreadable, before returning to Luca. “Yes. I can.”

Something inside me crumbled.

For years, I had fought to keep Luca away from this man, from the darkness that trailed him like a shadow. And now, standing here, I couldn’t deny the truth staring back at me…

They belonged to each other.