Blood and Desire

Chapter Four: A Devil in the Dark

Elena’s hands curled into fists against her lap as she stared at the man lounging on her couch. Dante Moretti.

The name alone sent shockwaves of fear through the city. He wasn’t just some wounded stranger she’d saved—he was the head of the Moretti crime syndicate, a man whose name was spoken in hushed whispers, whose enemies disappeared without a trace.

And now, he was sitting in her apartment. Bleeding. Smirking. Watching her.

Shit.

"You look like you’re regretting your choices, sweetheart," Dante mused, his voice a low rasp.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her composure. Don’t show fear. "Should I be?"

Dante tilted his head, as if considering the question. His green eyes glowed with something unreadable, something dangerous. "That depends," he murmured. "Are you planning on betraying me?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "I don’t even know you."

A slow, wicked smile stretched across his lips. "You will."

Elena’s pulse pounded in her ears. What the hell does that mean?

She needed to get out of this. Fast.

"You should go," she said, standing abruptly. Your wounds are cleaned up. I did my part."

Dante didn’t move. Instead, he stretched, his muscles flexing under his ruined shirt. "You think I can just walk out of here?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze locking onto hers. "You think they won’t be looking for me?"

Elena hesitated. They.

The people who had done this to him. His enemies.

Dante must have seen the realization dawn on her face because his smirk deepened. "Ah. There it is."

Elena hated how he played with her, like he was enjoying every flicker of fear that crossed her expression.

"Then what do you want?" she asked, arms crossing over her chest.

Dante exhaled, running a hand through his raven-black hair, smearing a streak of blood across his jaw. "A place to lie low. A day. Maybe two."

No. Absolutely not.

"If I leave now, I’ll be dead before sunrise," he continued. "And that’s bad news for you, little dove."

Her stomach twisted. "Why?"

Dante’s eyes darkened. "Because you helped me."

Silence.

Elena’s breath came shallow, her mind racing. If what he was saying was true, then…

If his enemies found out he had survived, and they knew she had been the one to save him…

They’d come for her, too.

She took a step back, shaking her head. "No. No, this isn’t my fight. I—"

Dante was on his feet before she could blink, moving with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for someone so injured.

Her back hit the wall. He was in front of her now, caging her in.

One hand braced against the wall beside her head, the other reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His touch was featherlight, almost tender. But his eyes—his eyes were anything but.

"You made it your fight," he murmured. "The moment you touched me."

Elena’s chest rose and fell too fast. She should shove him away. She should run. But his voice—his touch—it made her dizzy.

"Don’t worry," he whispered, his lips inches from hers. "I’ll make sure you survive this, little dove."

His gaze dropped to her lips.

And for one terrifying, thrilling second…

She thought he might kiss her.

But then, his head snapped up.

A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.

Elena’s blood turned to ice.

Dante’s expression hardened instantly. His fingers brushed against the gun at his side, body going still. Lethal. Ready.

"Expecting company?" he murmured.

Elena shook her head slowly.

Dante’s lips twitched. "Then we’ve got a problem."

Outside the Apartment – Midnight

The man at the door adjusted his leather gloves, his expression cold and unreadable. His orders were clear.

If Dante Moretti was here—kill him.

And if someone was hiding him?

Kill them too.