Chapter 4
695 Words
Dante
I waited until the house went quiet before I moved.
Arielle locked her door. I heard it click from the hallway camera feed on my phone. Smart girl. Even if she didn’t know why yet.
I poured a glass of whiskey I didn’t drink and stared out at the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Somewhere out there, men were still talking about Marcus Monroe like he was unfinished business.
They were right.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered anyway.
“She’s with you,” a voice said—low, amused, dangerous.
I didn’t respond.
“That’s a bold move, Cross,” the voice continued. “Bringing her into your house like that.”
My jaw tightened. “You called to narrate, or do you have a point?”
A chuckle. “You think proximity protects her.”
“It does,” I said flatly.
“For now.”
The line went dead.
I set the glass down slowly, every instinct screaming. I’d spent years keeping Arielle’s name out of conversations like this. Years redirecting attention, shifting blame, buying time.
Time was up.
I checked the perimeter feeds—nothing unusual. Security tight. Gates locked. Guards posted.
Still, I headed toward the hallway.
Her door was closed. Light glowed faintly from underneath.
I knocked once.
“Arielle,” I said. “Open the door.”
Silence.
I knocked again. “Now.”
The lock clicked. She opened it just enough to look at me, eyes wary, hoodie pulled tight around her like armor.
“What?” she asked.
“You okay?”
Her brows pulled together. “You told me to lock the door.”
“And I’m telling you to answer when I knock.”
That didn’t sit right with her. I could see it in the way she shifted.
“Did something happen?”
I considered lying.
I didn’t.
“Someone knows you’re here.”
Her face drained of color. “What?”
“They already knew who you were,” I said. “Now they know where you are.”
Her breathing quickened. “Then why bring me here?”
“Because this house is the safest place in the city.”
She searched my face, fear battling anger. “You keep saying that like you’re the solution, not the problem.”
I stepped closer. “I am both.”
The honesty landed harder than reassurance ever could.
“Pack a bag,” I said. “Essentials only.”
“For what?”
“Insurance.”
She shook her head. “I’m not running.”
“You are,” I said. “With me.”
Her voice cracked. “You don’t get to keep doing this—deciding things for me.”
“I do when your life’s on the line.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why do you care this much?”
Because your father took the fall for something that should’ve buried men a lot worse than him.
Because I promised myself you’d never pay for his mistakes.
Because if they touch you, there won’t be enough blood to satisfy what I’d do next.
I said none of it.
Instead, I looked at her and said, “Because you’re mine to protect.”
The words hit us both.
Her breath caught. My chest tightened.
“That’s not—” she started.
A sharp bang echoed from downstairs.
We both froze.
Another sound followed—metal grinding. The unmistakable whine of the gate alarms kicking in.
My phone buzzed again.
This time, it was security.
“Sir,” the guard said urgently, “we’ve got movement at the south entrance.”
I pulled Arielle behind me without thinking.
Her hands gripped my shirt.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
I met her eyes, steady despite the chaos roaring in my head.
“Exactly what I warned you about.”
The lights flickered.
Somewhere below us, glass shattered.
I reached for the gun I hadn’t needed to use in years.
And for the first time since Arielle Monroe stepped into my life, I knew one thing for certain—
This wasn’t about protection anymore.
This was war.
- Writer
