Stolen: Dante’s Vow by Natasha Knight
Dante
Fuck.
You can hear a pin drop.
She’s right.
She is absolutely right.
Those last words cut into me like the shards that tore me apart in that house. She could have slapped my face and it would have been less violent. Less painful.
I look down at her not quite believing it, the words themselves echoing as if bouncing off the walls. Repeating. Repeating.
“Because Dante would never have let what happened to me happen.”
She stares up with her wide blue eyes, accusing and innocent and terrified at once. Her face is pale, the skin around her nose and eyes pink from crying. She’s waiting for my reaction. Ready for an attack like earlier when she curled into herself thinking I’d hit her. Assuming I would.
Fuck. This has gone off the rails. Everything so very different than I could have anticipated.
I knew she’d be confused. I thought she’d remember me though. It was arrogant, to think it. To assume I’d swoop in and rescue her, and we’d all live happily ever after.
Newsflash, asshole. Kidnapped girls who have lived their lives in captivity don’t get happily-ever-afters. And neither do monsters. I am one, inside and out. I let her see that with her own eyes. Couldn’t shield her from my true nature.
“Matthaeus.” I don’t take my eyes off her as I say his name, sounding much calmer than I feel. I wonder if she hears the current just beneath that false calm.
Neither she nor I look away when Matthaeus comes into the room. He probably heard every fucking word.
“Watch her. She tries anything, give her something to help her sleep.”
Her eyes narrow and her mouth tightens but she remains silent. She doesn’t look away from me, those vivid blue eyes familiar, twisting something inside me.
He nods tightly.
I walk away, unlock the door, and get out of the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind me. I hadn’t taken off my coat, so I button it against the icy wind when I get through the downstairs door. I walk blind through the empty lot, out the broken gate. I don’t look back at the warehouse. It’s one of David’s. Harder to dig up than the others. He had wanted to make sure no one would know about this one, at least when he was alive. I can’t imagine him having spent much time inside it. Not his style. He had it stocked with weapons though and I know he’s had men stay there. I saw the trash they left behind. I wonder what kind of operations he ran out of the place.
But that’s not what I’m thinking about now.
I’m hearing her words repeat in my head. “Dante would never have let what happened to me happen.” I let them take me under as I walk for half an hour before finally getting too fucking cold to be outside any longer. I turn the corner and walk into the first bar I see, a run-down, smelly hole in the wall.
But it’s dark and there’s liquor, so it’ll do.
I walk up to the bar and the two men sitting nearest the empty stool are quick to vacate their seats. I open my coat, shake off the snow. I don’t bother taking it off before I drop onto the stool. I push my wet hair back and it stays back, putting my face on full display for the barman who to his credit, doesn’t flinch. He just stands there eyeing me while drying a glass. He’s a big guy. Bald. Bearded and tattooed. He nods in greeting.
“Whiskey,” I say.
He sets a glass down in front of me, uncorks a new bottle and pours.
“Leave the bottle.” I take a hundred-dollar bill out of my wallet and set it on the bar. Not that this whiskey’s worth that.
He eyes the bill but doesn’t take it just yet. “Sure thing.” He walks to the other end of the bar, and I pick up the glass, swallow the contents. I catch my reflection between the bottles of liquor in the tarnished mirror behind the bar. I see why the men who scurried away did. I look wrecked. And scary as fuck.
I pick up the bottle and the glass, then pour. I have to do that since I lost my eye. Can’t just pour something out into a cup that I’m not holding. Depth perception is still a challenge, but I work around it. Shrapnel hit my eye the night of the explosion, but the doctors thought they could save it. I knew when I opened them there was a problem, but I figured that was the bandages obscuring my vision. In time it became evident I was losing my sight in my right eye. Then it got infected, and well, here I am. A patch like a pirate.
Alessandro likes it. Thinks it’s cool.
I smile at the thought of my nephew. Miniature Cristiano. He had Scarlett buy him an eyepatch as soon as he understood why I wore it so I wouldn’t feel like I stuck out. He was irritated his wasn’t leather like mine though.
I swallow the rest of the contents of the glass and pour again. Christ. This hasn’t gone like I expected, but she’s right. What did I think? That I’d fucking swoop in like some knight in shining armor and slay the beast and then what? She’d forget everything those bastards did to her and go back to living the life she was meant to live? A life she’s never known?
Fuck. I don’t want to think about it all, but I need to. I need to do this with her. Like I said. I owe it to her.
This all happened because of me. Because David raped my mother. Got her pregnant when she only wanted to be free of him. So, to punish her, he had that bastard Rinaldi violate her, then made her watch as her husband and children were massacred.
Not me, though. I didn’t die.
And I have a feeling if she’d had a choice, if she could have sacrificed me to save them, she might have. I wouldn’t blame her. I was the living, breathing reminder of the violence done to her. A secret she had to keep from her husband, the man I knew as my father but wasn’t. I still wonder what he’d have done if he knew. If he’d have been able to love me. To stand the sight of me.
Pouring another glass, I take a sip, leaning back in my chair. The liquor is starting to do its work.
She was never cruel or even unkind to me. She loved me. I know she did. But sometimes I’d find her watching me and it always felt off. I understand now why that was.
But that’s all past. She’s dead. Gone fifteen years now. The men involved are all dead. And I killed the one who orchestrated it all.
Not that it gave me any satisfaction. It couldn’t. Not when I learned the truth about him. About how I was conceived. Not when I learned that Mara was alive. Kidnapped and sold. A slave to the highest bidder.
She was unlucky from birth. Her mother died in a traffic accident soon after she was born. No one, not even Lenore, ever found out who her father was. Mara got stuck with us for an adoptive family.
Christ. What a family we are to get tangled up with.
I am sorry that I never looked for her. I will forever hate myself for that. I assumed she’d been killed. Believed David when he told me they probably dropped her body in the ocean. Why not kill her when they killed everyone else? It didn’t even occur to me that they’d have mistaken her for Elizabeth and had plans for her that, in some ways, were worse than death.
No. Nothing is worse than death. It’s what Cristiano says. Alive is better. Always.
Alive is possibility. Hope.
But that’s just it. She has none.
I forgo the glass and bring the bottle to my lips, seeing the eyes of the barman and a few other patrons as I drink about a third of it. The only reason I stop is my phone buzzing in my pocket.
I set the bottle on the counter, wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve and pull the phone out. It’s Charlie. I swipe the green bar and put the phone to my ear.
“Charlie.”
There’s a pause. “Are you drunk?”
“My, what big ears you have.”
“Where’s Matthaeus?”
I pick up the bottle, pour, splashing some onto the counter. That could be the amount I’ve already drunk and not necessarily my one-eyed status.
“Not here,” I tell him.
“You’re not at the warehouse.”
“Check my location?”
“You’re out alone?”
“What did you find?”
“For fuck’s sake, Dante. Do you think it’s wise to be out on your own drunk or well on your way to being drunk when Ivan Petrov has his men scouring the city for you?”
“Does he?” I smile, drink more whiskey. “Then he got my message.”
“Yeah. Not very bright to leave a fucking calling card.” He means my big smile and the fuck-you to the camera before we went into the penthouse.
“It’s what will get him out of his hole,” I pause when I see the barmen’s eyes on me, but my glance is all it takes for him to look away. Mind his own fucking business. “Where is he? I assume that’s why you’re calling? And I assume you haven’t told my brother since he’s not on the line with you.”
He sighs. “No, I haven’t told Cristiano. He’ll get on a plane the instant I do, and I agree with what you said. His family needs him here right now.”
“Smart. So, where the fuck is that bastard?”
“I’ll tell you what. You get yourself home. Sleep it off. Then call me when you’re sober and Matthaeus is at your side. We both know you need someone with a little sense to keep you from getting your head blown off.”
“I’m not planning on getting my head blown off just yet.”
“Yeah, well, it’s that last part that scares me. I dealt with this with your brother. I don’t intend on doing it again with you.”
I grit my teeth. I know what he means. I know Cristiano planned to kill Rinaldi and that was it. It was as far as his plans went. He thinks I didn’t know.
“Where is he? Where’s Petrov?” I ask, no note of sarcasm in my voice, trying to make myself sound as sober as possible.
“Like I said, get home. Sleep it off. Then call me. And try to remember there’s more at stake than just your life, Dante. You just got her back. Not to mention Matthaeus and the rest of your men.” He disconnects the call before I even open my mouth to reply.
I tuck the phone into my pocket, pick up the bottle and look straight ahead as I process, my mind circling back to Mara. To that moment when I was on top of her. Fuck. What was I thinking? I hadn’t meant for it to go like it did. I hadn’t meant to be fucking turned on but she’s right. I was.
Christ.
There’s something strange between us. Something I hadn’t even considered. An electrical charge.
I just have to remember electricity kills.
And yeah, her accusation, she was right on that too. To some extent, I am like that bastard, Petrov. I like the kill. But I won’t hurt her. Ever. And whether she likes it or not, I’m hers now.
Her protector.
Her monster.
The one who will slay all the other monsters in her world.