Chapter Three: The Devil’s Name
416 Words
Elena’s breath stalled in her throat.
His fingers traced the inside of her wrist, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the beat of her pulse. His green eyes flickered in the dim light, a shade too dark, too intense, like a predator watching its prey.
She should pull away. She should run.
But she didn’t.
"Who are you?" she asked instead, her voice barely above a whisper.
The stranger tilted his head, his lips curving into something between amusement and menace. "You don’t know?"
Her heart pounded. His arrogance was unsettling, but there was something else beneath it—a quiet kind of violence, the kind that didn't need to be spoken to be understood.
He let go of her wrist but didn’t move back. Too close. Too dangerous.
"You saved my life," he murmured, watching her. "That means you belong to me now, Elena."
A chill swept down her spine. How did he know her name?
Her fingers twitched against the blood-stained cloth in her lap. "I don’t belong to anyone."
A slow, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. "That’s where you’re wrong."
Elena swallowed hard. "I could call the cops right now," she challenged, willing her voice to stay steady.
The smirk that touched his lips was almost cruel. "You won’t."
And the worst part? He was right.
**Because despite the alarms blaring in her mind, despite the warning signs screaming at her to get away—**she wasn’t afraid of him.
Not the way she should be.
"You still haven’t told me your name," she said, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
For a moment, he was silent. Then, he leaned back, stretching out across her couch like he owned it, like he owned everything he touched.
"You can call me Dante," he said finally. "Dante Moretti."
Her stomach dropped.
She knew that name. Everyone in the city knew that name.
Dante Moretti—the most feared mafia boss on the East Coast.
And she had just brought him into her home.
Midnight – Somewhere in the City
A black SUV idled outside a rundown warehouse, rain drumming against the windshield. Inside, three men sat in silence, the air thick with tension.
"He should’ve been here an hour ago," one of them muttered, gripping the wheel.
The man in the passenger seat, tall and lean with cold blue eyes, exhaled slowly. "Find him."
A pause. Then, "And if he’s dead?"
The blue-eyed man smirked. "Then we burn the whole damn city down."
- Writer
