Chapter 28: The Safe House

Elena Vitiello POV

The federal building went into lockdown within minutes.

Agents moved through hallways carrying weapons.

Phones rang nonstop.

Orders were shouted from every direction.

The entire operation had shifted from investigation to crisis.

Because Lorenzo Moretti was no longer hiding.

He was moving.

And nobody knew where.

"We need to relocate her immediately," one agent said.

"Agreed," another replied.

"No," I interrupted.

Everyone looked at me.

"No?"

"I'm not running anymore."

Marco actually laughed.

"Respectfully, that's a terrible plan."

"Marco."

"What? It is."

"She's right," Dante said quietly.

The room froze.

"Excuse me?" the lead agent asked.

"She's right."

"Running won't solve anything."

"Then what will?"

"Finding Lorenzo first."

"We're trying."

"Try harder."

The agent looked offended.

Marco looked entertained.

I looked exhausted.

The only person who looked calm was Dante.

Which worried me.

Because calm Dante was dangerous Dante.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"Lorenzo isn't leaving the country."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's too arrogant."

"That's your evidence?"

"Yes."

"That's ridiculous."

"It's also correct."

Unfortunately, he sounded confident.

And unfortunately, he was usually right about criminals.

Probably because he had spent most of his life surrounded by them.

"If he's staying," I said, "then what does he want?"

Dante's eyes met mine.

The answer arrived instantly.

"The drive."

The room became silent.

"Of course he wants the drive."

"No."

"What?"

"He doesn't need the drive."

"Why not?"

"Because he already knows what's on it."

That realization hit everyone simultaneously.

"Then what does he want?" Marco asked.

Dante didn't answer immediately.

Because he didn't need to.

Everyone already knew.

"Me," I whispered.

Silence.

"Exactly," Dante said.

The words settled heavily across the room.

I suddenly felt very tired.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Because somehow this entire nightmare kept coming back to me.

A woman who wanted nothing more than a quiet life.

"Wonderful."

"I know," Dante said.

"Stop agreeing with me."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"No."

Marco made another choking sound.

"You two argue like an old married couple."

The entire room stared at him.

"Too soon?"

"Very," I replied.

"Extremely," Dante added.

"Fair."

An hour later, the agents moved me to a secure location.

A safe house overlooking the ocean.

Private.

Hidden.

Guarded.

The kind of place governments used when things became serious.

Which apparently they had.

The house itself was beautiful.

Normally I would've loved it.

Today I barely noticed.

"You'll stay here tonight," the lead agent explained.

"Tomorrow we'll reassess."

"And Lorenzo?"

"We're searching."

"That's reassuring."

"It shouldn't be."

"At least you're honest."

"Occupational hazard."

The agents eventually left.

Security remained outside.

The house fell silent.

For the first time all day, I was alone.

Or so I thought.

"You look exhausted."

I turned.

Dante stood near the kitchen doorway.

"Why are you here?"

"Because they couldn't stop me."

"That's not the comforting answer you think it is."

"Probably not."

He looked equally exhausted.

Dark circles under his eyes.

Wrinkles I had never noticed before.

A heaviness in his posture.

The last few weeks had changed him.

The last few weeks had changed both of us.

"Do you ever wish we'd never met?"

The question escaped before I could stop it.

Dante looked genuinely surprised.

"No."

"Really?"

"Never."

"Not even once?"

"No."

The certainty in his voice caught me off guard.

"Why?"

"Because even at my worst..."

He hesitated.

"You were still my favorite part of life."

The room became very quiet.

"That's not fair."

"Probably not."

"You don't get to say things like that now."

"Why not?"

"Because I would've killed to hear them three years ago."

Pain flashed across his face.

Real pain.

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"No, Dante."

My voice cracked.

"You don't."

"You have no idea what it felt like."

"Waiting for you."

"Choosing you."

"Defending you."

"Loving you."

"While knowing I'd always come second."

Silence.

Heavy silence.

Dante didn't interrupt.

Didn't defend himself.

Didn't argue.

He simply listened.

Maybe for the first time.

"I know you regret it," I whispered.

"I do."

"I know you love me now."

"I do."

"And that's the problem."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know if it's enough."

The truth finally hung between us.

Raw.

Honest.

Terrifying.

"I know," he said softly.

"Then why are you still here?"

"Because you stayed for three years."

"That's different."

"Why?"

"Because I loved you."

Dante's eyes never left mine.

"Exactly."

The answer stole my breath.

Because for the first time...

I understood.

He wasn't staying because he expected forgiveness.

He wasn't staying because he thought he deserved another chance.

He was staying because now he finally understood what love looked like.

And love stayed.

Even when it hurt.

Even when it failed.

Even when there was no guarantee of success.

A sudden knock interrupted the moment.

Three sharp knocks.

Everyone froze.

Dante's expression changed instantly.

Dangerous.

Focused.

Lethal.

"Stay behind me."

"Dante—"

"Stay behind me."

The front door opened.

An agent rushed inside.

Pale.

Breathing hard.

"We found him."

Silence.

"Lorenzo?" Dante asked.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"At the old Moretti estate outside Napa Valley."

Dante froze.

"Impossible."

"Why?" I asked.

His face darkened.

"Because that house burned down fifteen years ago."

"Apparently not," the agent replied.

"And Lorenzo is waiting there."

"Waiting?"

"Yes."

"For who?"

The agent looked directly at me.

"For Elena."