For You

ZANYA. (DANTE)

Something was off.

I was supposed to meet Mr. Leonardo today to discuss the border issues. I was supposed to see him alive, well, and running his damn mouth like he always did.

I wasn’t supposed to see his lifeless body slumped over his desk, a bloody mess staining the expensive mahogany.

Neither was I supposed to step over his guards, their bodies mauled like they never saw death coming.

Whoever did this was precise. Fast.

No hesitation. No wasted movements.

It reminded me too much of that night.

I clenched my fists, forcing the memories back into the darkness where they belonged.

Taking out my phone, I made two calls—one to the police, one to the media. The city needed to know what happened here. And I needed to find out who the hell was behind it.

Shaking with anger, I stormed out of the house, hopped onto my bike, and rode to the only place that could calm me.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something was definitely wrong with my angel.

She looked... distant. Her eyes were dull, lost in a place I couldn't reach. Her body was here, but her mind was far away. And judging by the redness around her eyes, she'd cried through the night.

That didn’t sit right with me.

Her friends noticed too. The mother hen of the group kept sneaking glances at her, worry painted across her face. Even the customers—mostly men, much to my f*****g irritation—were treating her gently, as if sensing the storm hovering around her.

Angel was supposed to be smiling. She was supposed to be happy.

And yet, she wasn’t.

The weight in the air was suffocating, an unspoken tension thick enough to choke on. The entire café felt it.

Her friend finally caved. She slid closer to Angel, whispering something to her in hushed tones. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I knew she was telling her to go home.

Angel shook her head.

The other one—Kaili, I think—wasn’t having it. She grabbed Angel’s phone and made a call, likely to their boss. A moment later, Angel sighed in defeat and trudged toward the locker room.

Good. She needed rest.

A few minutes later, she reappeared, dressed in black high-waist jeans, a white crop top, and black ankle sneakers. Simple. Casual. Yet somehow, she still managed to look like a goddamn dream.

She waved at her friends and stepped out.

I remained seated.

I knew where she lived, but I didn’t need to tip them off by leaving too soon.

After a moment, the mother hen of the group—Queenie—walked straight to my table and plopped down across from me.

I lifted a brow.

“Hi. I’m Queenie,” she introduced herself, though I didn’t respond. I didn’t care for names that weren’t hers.

She muttered something under her breath—probably asshole—but I wasn’t concerned.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m allowing you to tail Zanya home,” she said, arms crossed.

Zanya.

That was my angel’s name.

Queenie studied me, her gaze sharp and knowing. “You’re not like the other guys,” she stated. “You look rich, but the reporters don’t even know you. That means you keep your life private. Off the radar.”

Smart girl.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to something more serious. “Just don’t hurt her. Or there’ll be hell to pay.”

With that, she stood and walked off.

Well, that was interesting.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I tailed her from a distance.

Zanya wasn’t an ordinary girl. She was aware—her instincts sharp, her posture tense. Even though she couldn’t see me, she could feel me.

But I was good. She wouldn’t find me unless I wanted her to.

As she walked, the usual lowlifes started their bullshit. Catcalls. Whistles. Disgusting remarks thrown her way.

She ignored them, like always.

But I didn’t.

The first guy barely had time to register my presence before my fist shattered his nose. Blood sprayed against the pavement as he crumpled.

The second one reached for something—maybe a knife, maybe his balls—but I didn’t give him the chance. A swift kick to his ribs sent him crashing against the alley wall.

The third tried to run.

I caught him by the collar and slammed his face against the concrete.

Repeatedly.

By the time I let go, he wasn’t moving.

One of them groaned, coughing up blood. “Who… the f**k… are you?”

I crouched beside him, gripping his jaw so he had no choice but to look at me.

“She’s off-limits,” I murmured. My voice was calm. Deadly. “Say another word to her, and I’ll make sure you don’t have a tongue left to speak with.”

He whimpered.

Satisfied, I straightened and disappeared before Zanya could notice anything out of place.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She made it home safely.

I watched from the shadows as she unlocked her door, stepping inside without a clue that I’d been with her the whole way.

Good.

For now, she didn’t need to know.

I turned on my heel and walked away, the image of her haunted eyes burned into my mind.

Whatever had broken her last night…

I’d find out.

And I’d burn the whole damn world down for her.