The Devil's Touch

**CHAPTER 6**

*Dante's POV*

The gunfire was relentless, each shot pounding in my ears like a drumbeat. The ornate chandeliers above us trembled, crystals clinking like wind chimes caught in a storm. Screams and chaos filled the room as people scrambled for cover, but my focus was on one thing: Elena.

“Stay close,” I commanded, pulling her deeper into the shadows of the grand hall. My hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, and I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.

“I can walk on my own, you know,” she hissed, her voice low but sharp.

“Not taking any chances,” I shot back. “You’re safer with me.”

We ducked behind a massive marble column, the weight of the moment pressing down on us. My mind raced as I assessed the situation. The Montessi family had been quiet for months, their silence more suspicious than reassuring. This attack was bold, reckless even, and it had the stench of desperation all over it.

“Who are they?” Elena’s voice broke through my thoughts, trembling but determined.

“Not your concern,” I replied, scanning the room for an opening.

“That’s not an answer,” she snapped, her fiery green eyes glaring up at me.

I glanced at her, surprised by her nerve. Even with danger all around us, she refused to back down. “They’re enemies. That’s all you need to know.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Enemies of yours or my father’s?”

The question hit harder than it should have. She wasn’t naive—not by a long shot—but this wasn’t the time to unravel the tangled web of loyalties and betrayals that defined our world.

“Both,” I admitted reluctantly.

Her expression shifted, a mixture of fear and realization crossing her face. “So, this isn’t random. They’re here because of you.”

“Possibly,” I said, my voice low. “Or your father. Either way, you’re in the crossfire now.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but another round of gunfire cut her off. I pulled her closer, shielding her as shards of glass rained down from a shattered window nearby.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. We couldn’t stay here much longer.

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*Elena’s POV*

My heart was racing, every instinct screaming at me to run, but Dante’s firm grip on my wrist anchored me in place. The man radiated control, his dark gray eyes scanning the room with a precision that made it clear he was no stranger to violence.

He was dangerous. That much I knew. But right now, he was also my best chance at surviving this nightmare.

I should have been terrified of him. Instead, I found myself studying him in the midst of the chaos—how calm he was, how every movement seemed deliberate.

“This isn’t your world,” he said suddenly, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back, bristling at the way he spoke as if I didn’t belong here.

“It means you’re out of your depth,” he said, his tone clipped. “And this isn’t a lesson you want to learn the hard way.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he had no idea who I was or what I could handle. But deep down, I knew he was right.

A loud crash jolted me back to reality as one of the masked men toppled a table in his search for more targets. My breath caught in my throat, and I instinctively pressed closer to Dante.

“Keep your head down,” he whispered, his voice low but steady. “I’ll get you out of here.”

I didn’t have time to respond before he moved, his hand slipping from my wrist to the small of my back as he guided me toward a side corridor.

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*Dante’s POV*

The hallway was dimly lit, the shadows providing some cover as we moved. I could feel her trembling slightly, but she kept pace, her courage surprising me.

We ducked into a small storage room, the heavy wooden door muffling the sounds of the chaos outside. I leaned against the wall, taking a moment to catch my breath and reassess.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but demanding.

The question caught me off guard. “Because you’re not safe,” I said simply.

“That’s not an answer,” she pressed.

I met her gaze, the intensity in her green eyes pulling at something I couldn’t name. “Maybe not,” I admitted, “but it’s the only one you’re getting.”

Before she could respond, the door burst open. I reached for my gun, but the sight of Lorenzo Torres storming into the room stopped me.

“Elena!” he barked, his eyes wild as they locked onto her.

“Dad!” she exclaimed, relief washing over her face as she rushed to his side.

Lorenzo’s gaze shifted to me, cold and calculating. “Dante,” he said, his tone sharp. “I appreciate your… assistance, but I’ll take it from here.”

I didn’t move, my eyes narrowing as I studied him. “You’re welcome,” I said dryly, though my tone held a warning. “She was in danger.”

“And now she’s not,” he snapped, pulling her closer.

Elena glanced back at me, something unspoken passing between us. I didn’t know what it was—gratitude, defiance, or maybe both—but it was enough to make me hesitate.

“Take care of her,” I said finally, my voice low.

Lorenzo didn’t respond, ushering her out of the room without another word. As the door closed behind them, I felt an unfamiliar ache settle in my chest.

I didn’t know what it was about her, but something told me this wasn’t the last time our paths would cross.

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