Chapter 11: Heartwise Decision Making
1520 Words
Though the safehouse was softly lit early dawn, the light did nothing to remove the traces of the combat that had raged through the night. Dante stood at the brink of the room, his eyes glancing over broken glass and splintered wood. The silence was a far cry from the anarchy that had rocked the walls just a few hours before.
Already working with the others, Enzo and Marco were healing injuries and getting ready for the following wave. They had to be ready since Giovanni would not wait long before acting. But Dante's thoughts kept looping back to Elena even as his mind ran with plans and backup ideas.
He discovered her staring over the edge of an old sofa, a blanket slung over her shoulders, eyes far as she followed the lip of a chipped mug in her hands. Her cheek cut had been cleaned, a little bandage covering it, but it had no effect on softening the still boiling defiance in her eye.
Dante went across the room, the floor cracking under his weight, and sat across from her. Their quiet was thick, full of unspoken words and questions neither knew how to express.
"You should rest," he remarked at last, the roughness in his voice showing the anxiety he sought to hide.
Elena fixed her eyes on his, unflitting. You should also quit acting as though this isn't breaking you apart.
His mouth closed, his facial muscles straying against the reality she had set out. Dante had spent years developing an image of relentless fortitude, a mask that even his closest friends hardly saw fall. But Elena saw through it from the beginning, and it scared him more than any enemy could have ever done.
"This isn't about me," he remarked, turning his head to the shattered glass where jagged streaks of early sunshine streamed through. "It's about maintaining your life."
"It's about both of us," she said, her voice firm. "Dante, you cannot accomplish this by yourself. You are not obliged of course.
Her words cracked something inside him, but he forced it down, concentrating on the present work. He could not afford to consider what it meant to let someone in, to be caring beyond the pragmatic. Not now.
"I need you to trust me," he murmured, his plea shocking them both.
Elena leaned forward, their separation getting smaller. Yes I do. Still, you have to believe me as well. Like you, I can fight for what I believe in and am not just someone to defend.
Tension permeated the quiet that followed as an unsaid agreement passed between them. Dante wanted to protest, to convince her that her safety came first. But before he could, Enzo's voice shrill and urgent sliced across the room.
From the doorway, "Boss, we have movement on the west side," he said, eyes precisely surveying the space like a military would. Giovanni's soldiers, it is. They are laying out a circle.
Dante stood, the moment broken as reality returned to bite. He looked at Elena; his own resolution reflected in her eyes. Knowing it was useless, he directed, "Stay here."
Rising to follow him to the door, she not a chance.
Outside the safehouse, the air crackled with the expectation of violence, anxiety. Moving like shadows, Dante's soldiers settled into position as the presence of the adversary grew more physical. Every stride Dante made seemed like the countdown to a fuse being fired; the streets were a battleground just ready to ignite.
Marco showed up at his side, voice low and eyes narrow. They are laying up a barricade. Looks as though they want to cut off our access to the main road.
Dante nodded while his mind flew. Giovanni was acting well, cutting off their means of escape and imposing on them his demands. But Dante was going to let Giovanni change the tide; he had built his empire on outwitting those who undervalued him.
Tell the guys to keep their places, he said. "We have to get them to believe we are under corning.
Marco's brow wrinkled and knowledge dawned across his face like a smile. "got it."
Dante turned to Enzo, who had been observing silently, as Marco went off. "Get Elena to safety," Dante said, his voice lowering. "I need her far away should this go south."
Enzo paused, eyes darting to where Elena stood among the other males, already engaged in intense conversation. "You know she's not going to leave deliberately."
Dante's eyes turned sharp, the weight of the occasion bearing down on him. "then help her understand."
A sharp yell from the edge of their perimeter announced the beginning of the attack before Enzo could reply. Sharp and startling, gunfire broke the still dawn like a knife. Dante went without thought; the anarchy around him sharpened his attention.
Elena hid behind a stack of boxes, her heart hammering as bullets whizzed by her ears. Beside her, Enzo had a determined yet annoyed look.
He shot a scowl her way as he fired off a round at their attackers, saying, "You need to stay down."
"I'm not leaving him, Enzo," she said, the adrenaline running through her above any sense of anxiety.
Enzo's jaw tightened, but time was of the essence and debate was not possible. The street had gone into anarchy, and the conflict was engulfing like a hurricane from all around.
Dante's voice emerged from ahead, strong and directive. "Push them rear!" Prevent them from progressing!
Elena felt something clench in her chest as she saw him towering among the devastation. He moved with the accuracy of a man who understood every movement before it occurred, who expected the ebb and flow of war as though it were an extension of himself. Still, he could not be everywhere at once.
Before she could yell a warning, a man sprang from the side alley, weapon raised and aimed for Dante's unprotected flank. A shadow shifted in the corner of her vision.
Time slowed, the globe reduced to the sight of the threat and the awareness Dante was too preoccupied on the front line to see it. Elena shot forward without thinking, adrenaline pushing her into the open.
She yelled, "Dante!" her voice piercing the tumult.
He turned, eyes opening to recognize her presence. She collided with the assailant before he could move, though, and the force sent both of them flying to the ground. The man screamed in frustration, swinging furiously as he sought to recover his advantage while the pistol slipped away, skittering across the cobblestones.
As Elena resisted, the weight of the assailant pressed down on her, rendering her world a jumble of motion and noise. She bit at him with every last bit of power, but he was stronger-rage and desperation gave him an advantage.
One shot came out, unexpected and thunderous. The man's body tensed; his eyes went wide with shock then he toppled to the side, exposing Dante over them, gun still raised, eyes dark with wrath.
"Elena," he said, the one word combining relief and wrath.
Chest heaving, she forced herself up to meet his eye. " I told you-I'm not running."
A flutter of something flashed across his face-admiration, impatience, something deeper none of them had time to call for. Reaching out, he grabbed her to get her on her feet with nearly a punishing grasp.
"Stay close to me," he said, his voice raspy with feeling. "I'm not missing you."
Another yell from the street before she could answer. The battle was far from done; the opposition was reorganizing. But this time, as they stood side by side, their distance felt unbreakable.
Each second dragging out as they battled to keep their ground, the fight felt like hours. But the tide started to swing slowly. Giovanni's soldiers stumbled; their attack lost impetus as Dante's warriors drove them back, recovering the streets with a ferocity that matched the allegiance he inspired.
The last of the attackers withdrew as the sun rose higher, throwing long shadows over the city, leaving just the echoes of gunshots and the heavy silence of success.
Dante glanced to Elena, relief and weariness battling in his face. Blood splattered his arm from a bullet grazing him, but he seemed not to see.
She responded, her voice choked and incredulous, "We did it."
He nodded, gaze fixed on hers. "For now.
His comments heavy settled over them. Though the war was far from done, this was a battle won. And Elena knew her place was here, in the eye of the storm, by the guy who had become more than she ever dreamed as they stood there surrounded by the traces of their struggle.
But Marco showed up, his face solemn before the relief could really set in. You have to see this, boss. Giovanni messaged me.
Dante's eyes grew sharp, the triumph briefly lost. " What is it?"
Marco handed him a phone with a video message blazing on its screen. Dante's jaw tightened as he hit play; the screen displayed Giovanni's grinning face.
" Enjoy your moment, Moretti," said Giovanni:
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