For You

THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE (DANTE)

The night stretched on, the stars above a silent witness to the moment unraveling between us. I held her securely in my arms, my angel—fragile, yet so impossibly strong. The balcony air was crisp, but her warmth against me made it easy to ignore.

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested, my voice low.

Zanya looked up at me, her brows furrowing in confusion. “A game?”

“Twenty questions.”

She blinked, tilting her head slightly, before nodding. “Okay.”

I smirked. “I’ll go first.”

She huffed playfully, her lips twitching upward, and I felt a surge of satisfaction at the small smile. “Fine.”

“What’s your favorite coffee?”

She relaxed slightly, her body less tense. “Caramel macchiato,” she answered. “Extra sweet.”

Of course. My little angel had a sweet tooth. “Noted.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your turn.”

“Espresso. No sugar.”

She made a face. “That’s disgusting.”

I chuckled. “You’re just weak.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, a playful glint there, before nodding for me to continue.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked next.

She thought for a moment. “Lavender.”

I filed that information away too. “Lavender suits you.”

She looked surprised, then quickly looked away, pretending the compliment hadn’t flustered her. I let her have that small victory.

But enough of the light questions.

I ran a hand along her back, tracing soothing circles as I dropped my next question. “What was your childhood like?”

Her entire body stiffened, and for a moment, I thought she’d refuse to answer. Her eyes darted around, searching—whether for an escape, a distraction, or something else entirely, I didn’t know. But I didn’t let go. I held her against my chest, waiting.

She took a shuddering breath, and her fingers curled into fists against my chest.

“They took me when I was a toddler,” she whispered, voice barely audible over the soft wind. “I was part of their experiments. They collected children, ran tests, pitted us against each other. The first experiment…” She trailed off, her entire body trembling.

I clenched my jaw, fury surging through me, but I remained silent. Letting her speak at her own pace.

“We were just kids,” she continued. “Barely able to talk, let alone understand what was happening. They starved us, placed us in a room, and tossed in just one piece of food.”

I stiffened. The implications of what she was saying clawed at me like a beast ready to be unleashed.

“We fought for it,” she whispered. “Because we had to. Because we were hungry. Some of us—” Her voice broke. “Some of us didn’t make it out.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, her breath hitching as she clenched her fists tighter, knuckles turning white.

My hands ran up and down her back, soothing. Comforting. But I said nothing. There was nothing I could say that would take away that kind of pain.

She broke into quiet sobs, her body shaking in my arms, and I let her. Let her cry, let her mourn, let her release the weight she carried. I held her like she was the most precious thing in the world—because she was. And when her sobs finally quieted, when exhaustion finally claimed her and she melted against me in sleep, I pressed my lips to her temple, a silent vow forming within me.

Whoever did this to her…

Whoever stole her childhood, her innocence, her peace…

I was going to burn their entire world to the ground.

With her still tucked in my arms, I gazed out into the night, my mind already working, already plotting.

They had no idea the storm that was coming for them.

And I would make sure they never saw it until it was too late.

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Dante stepped into his residence, the familiar scent of leather and expensive cologne greeting him. The moment he crossed the threshold, he exhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders. The night at the Garcias’ had been... eventful. Too eventful.

With long strides, he made his way through the dimly lit hallways, stopping in front of Xavier’s room. He knocked once before pushing the door open.

Inside, Xavier was sprawled on his couch, lazily flipping through some files on his tablet. Aaron sat beside him, smirking over a glass of whiskey.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to come home,” Aaron drawled, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Did the in-laws approve, lover boy?”

Dante shot him an unimpressed look before shifting his gaze to Xavier. “Got anything?”

Xavier snorted, shaking his head. “Not even a ‘hello’? You wound me, Boss.”

Aaron chuckled. “You mean he wounds your ego.”

Dante ignored them, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. His patience was thinning, and they both knew better than to push too far.

Xavier sighed dramatically before tossing his tablet onto the table. “Nothing yet. The only thing I found about her is that she appeared in the system when she turned eighteen. Before that? She didn’t exist.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No shit.” Xavier rubbed his chin, his amusement fading. “That’s why we didn’t immediately spot her in the first place. It’s like she was a ghost before then.”

Dante processed the information in silence, his mind already working through the possibilities. His angel’s past was a labyrinth of horrors, and every piece of the puzzle only led to more questions. He had to find out who was responsible for it all.

“Expand the search,” Dante ordered, his voice like steel. “Look into cases of kidnapped toddlers from seventeen to twenty years ago. If she wasn’t in the system, then she wasn’t just abandoned. She was taken.”

Xavier’s expression turned serious as he nodded. “I’ll get on it.”

Aaron whistled lowly, taking another sip of his whiskey. “So, we’re digging into the ghosts of the past, huh?”

Dante didn’t answer. He already knew the truth—Zanya’s past was soaked in blood and shadow. And whoever had taken her, tortured her, experimented on her…

They were about to learn what happened when they crossed Dante Moretti.

And it wouldn’t be merciful.