DANTE’S POV
The safehouse was nothing more than four walls, a sagging roof, and locks thick enough to hold until morning. To anyone else, it was a hideout. To me, it was a cage.
I shut the last bolt on the door and leaned against it, letting the silence rush back in. Not relief….silence never meant relief. Silence only meant the enemy was regrouping.
Behind me, Elena guided Luca toward the worn out sofa. He was pale, his little hands clutching at her coat, his eyes too wide for a boy his age. I hated that look. I’d seen it in men twice his size, soldiers with blood on their hands. I never wanted it on him.
But it was there now. Because of me.
My fists clenched. The wood beneath my knuckles cracked.
“Dante,” Giovanni’s voice came low, steady, from the corner. He was peeling off his ja
