Chapter 7 - The Dragon's Confession
The panic room was terrifyingly silent compared to the chaos above.
Leo had finally exhausted himself from crying and was asleep against my collarbone.
Dante sat on a metal bench opposite me, hastily bandaging a deep gash on his forearm.
I watched him struggle to tie the knot with one hand.
"Let me," I whispered, stepping closer to the most dangerous man I had ever met.
He hesitated, then extended his bleeding arm toward me.
My fingers brushed against the black ink of the dragon tattoo on his skin.
I felt him tense under my touch, his muscles hard as stone.
"You did not run when you had the chance," he said quietly, his dark eyes searching mine.
"When the fighting started, you went for my son."
"I couldn't leave him," I answered, wrapping the white gauze tightly around his wound.
"He needs me."
Dante leaned in closer, his face mere inches from mine.
I could smell the gunpowder on him, mixed with the sharp scent of his cologne.
"Elena never loved him," Dante confessed, the words tearing out of him like jagged glass.
I froze, my hands pausing on his bandage.
"She was terrified of the life, terrified of me, and she resented the boy for tying her to this world."
"When the fire happened, she did not run to the nursery."
"She ran for the safe."
His words shattered the perfect image Rosa had painted of the dead wife.
"Why did you bring me here, Dante?" I asked, using his first name for the very first time.
His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there for a dangerous, electric second.
"Because when I saw you holding him, you looked at him with the love she never had."
"And because when I look at you, I do not see my dead wife."
"I see the woman she should have been."
He reached up with his uninjured hand and gently wiped a streak of soot from my cheek.
My heart raced, torn between the terrifying reality of who he was and the undeniable magnetism pulling me toward him.
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But I knew the secret I carried in my pocket.
I knew about the diary.
