Elara's POV.

The sun was high when I finally opened my eyes.

I turned my head and gasped, Dante was still there.

He wasn't sleeping, he was propped up on

one elbow, watching me.

For a moment, the terror of the previous night in the library flashed through my mind. I expected

a lecture or a cold shoulder. Instead, Dante leaned forward. He didn't say a word as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Good morning, beautiful." he said. His voice was deep, lacking the usual gravelly edge of a command.

"You're still here," I whispered, pulling the silk sheet higher up my chest.

"I have a busy day, but I wanted to be here when you woke up." He reached out and brushed a

strand of hair away from my eye.

"There is a gala tonight. A masquerade ball. It is an important event for the Moretti family, and it will be your first official appearance as my wife."

"I don't have anything to wear for something like that," I said.

Dante sat up.

"I've already handled it. A team will be here at noon. Do whatever they say. I want the world to see exactly what belongs to me."

He got out of bed, but before he left the room, he stopped at the door. He looked back and did

something I thought was physically impossible for him. He smiled. It wasn't a smirk or a grin of

triumph. It was a genuine, small smile.

Then he was gone. I sat there in the silence, stunned. The man who had threatened to bury his brother yesterday was calling me beautiful today. I didn't know which version of Dante was more dangerous.

At exactly noon, a woman named Celine arrived with four assistants. They carried rolling racks

of clothes and makeup kits.

"Mr. Moretti was very specific," Celine said as she began to inspect my skin. "He called three

times this morning to check on the progress. He wants you to look extraordinary."

"For real?" I asked, sitting still as they began to prep my hair.

"Yep," Celine said with a shrug.

"Usually, he just sends a credit card and a list of requirements. With you, he sounded more involved."

For the next four hours, I was poked, prodded, and polished. They did my hair in a sophisticated

updo that left my neck bare, leaving a few dark strands to fall over my face.

My makeup was dark, smoky eyes and a neutral lip.

Then came the dress.

It was a silver silk gown. It was long, hugging my hips and flowing down to the floorl. When I

turned around in the mirror, I realized the back was completely gone.

The silk draped low, exposing every inch of my spine down to the small of my back. It was the

most expensive thing I had ever touched. To finish it off, Celine handed me a black mask.

I was standing in the center of the room when the door opened. Dante walked in, already

dressed in a black tuxedo.

He didn't speak for a long time. He just walked around me, his eyes taking in the dress, the hair,

and the skin.

"Perfect," he murmured. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a

diamond necklace. He stepped behind me, his fingers cold against my skin as he fastened the

clasp.

"Stay close to me tonight, Elara. The people at this ball are not our friends."

Our.

The gala was held at a historic hotel downtown. Dante's hand was a permanent fixture on the

small of my back as we moved through the crowd.

"Dante! A beautiful choice," a man in a gold mask said, nodding toward me.

"Exceptional isn't she?" Dante asked rhetorically. His voice was polite.

I felt like a trophy, but a well-protected one. For the first time since I'd signed that contract, I felt

like Dante was actually proud to have me by his side.

We were standing near the champagne, Dante's grip on my waist tightened.

"Something is wrong," he whispered into my ear.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking around the smiling faces of the elite.

"The security at the doors. They aren't mine."

Before I could ask another question, every light in the ballroom went out. The music stopped

abruptly. For three seconds, there was total silence. Then, the screaming started.

The sound of gunfire shattered the glass windows. Panicked socialites trampled one another, trying to reach the exits.

"Down!" Dante shouted. He tackled me to the floor just as a burst of bullets hissed over our

heads, shattering a massive crystal chandelier above where we had been standing.

Glass rained down on us. I felt a sharp sting on my shoulder, but I didn't have time to check for

blood or cry.

Dante was already dragging me toward the service entrance. He pulled a handgun from a

holster I hadn't even noticed under his tuxedo jacket.

He fired back into the darkness, three times.

"Keep your head down and stay on my heels," Dante commanded. "If I tell you to run, you run, and you don't look back. Do you hear me?"

"Yes." I gasped, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst through my ribs.

We reached the back exit that led to the alleyway. Dante kicked the door open and we burst outside.

The rain had started to fall. My silver dress was ruined, but I didn't care. I just wanted to breathe.

"We need to get to the car," Dante said, scanning the alley. His chest was heaving, his eyes darting back and forth.

We ran toward the end of the alley where his security team was supposed to be waiting. The

street was empty, no black SUVs and no guards.

"Where are they?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Dante didn't answer. He stopped moving and pulled me behind a brick dumpster. He looked at

the rooftops.

"Elara, don't move," he said. His voice was suddenly very calm.

"Dante?"

"Look at your chest. Do not move a muscle."

I looked down, right over my heart was a tiny perfectly round red dot.

A sniper.

Elara's POV.

I couldn't breathe.

It began raining, making the moment cinematic. I wasn't even a week in, yet my life is currently hanging on a thin thread.

​"Dante," I whispered, my voice caught in my throat.

​"I said don't move," Dante hissed. He was tense, his own weapon raised, but he couldn't see the shooter neither could I.

The sniper was high up, hidden among the gargoyles and HVAC units.

​"Dante, the dot," I said, my knees shaking. "It's not moving."

​"Relax."

​Suddenly, a shadow appeared from the darkness.

​"Elara!"

​It was Lorenzo. He was running toward us.

​"Lorenzo, stay back!" Dante shouted.

He lunged forward, his body colliding with mine just as a loud bomb-like sound echoed through the alley.

​The force of his tackle sent us both sprawling into the wet pavement. I felt the cold water soak into my gown.

​"Lorenzo?" I gasped, trying to push myself up.

​He didn't answer.

He was slumped against me, his weight heavy and limp. I reached out and felt something warm and thick. Even in the dim light, I knew it was blood.

​"He's hit!" I screamed.

​Dante fired four shots toward the roof of the building across the street. A muffled cry came from above, followed by the sound of a body hitting a metal dumpster further down the block.

​Dante scrambled over to us, his face a mask of fury and panic. He grabbed Lorenzo by the shoulder and flipped him over.

​"Enzo! Talk to me!" Dante demanded.

​Lorenzo groaned, his eyes fluttering open. The bullet had caught him in the fleshy part of his shoulder, near the collarbone. It was a messy wound, and the blood was pumping out fast.

​"Did... did I get it?" Lorenzo rasped, a weak grin spread across his face.

​"You're an idiot," Dante snapped. He stripped off his tuxedo jacket and pressed it hard against the wound.

​"A 'thank you' would be nice, brother," Lorenzo winced, his face twisting in pain.

"I just saved your wife. You're welcome."

​"I didn't ask you to do that," Dante growled, his jaw set tight. "I had it under control."

​"You had nothing under control!" Lorenzo shot back, his voice rising despite his weakness. "She was a second away from a hole in her chest!"

​"Shut up and hold this," Dante ordered, forcing Lorenzo's own hand onto the jacket. "We need to move. Now."

​I scrambled to my feet, my ruined dress clinging to my legs. "We need an ambulance. He's losing too much blood. It might have hit the subclavian artery."

​Dante pulled out his phone. "No signal. They're jamming the block."

​"The street," I said, pointing toward the main road. "We have to get to the street. Someone will pass by."

​"Grab his other side," Dante told me.

​We hauled Lorenzo up. He was a tall man, and even with both of us supporting him, it was a struggle. We dragged him toward the road, our shoes splashing through deep puddles.

​"You're getting blood on your pretty dress, Elara," Lorenzo joked, though his voice was becoming faint.

​"Don't talk," I said. "Save your energy."

​"Is he still bickering?" Dante muttered, his eyes scanning the rooftops and the street corners. "He's dying and he's still trying to be the center of attention."

​"At least I'm not a cold-hearted bastard," Lorenzo coughed. "Are you even worried about her, Dante?"

​"I said shut up, Enzo!" Dante's voice was like a whip. "Focus on walking."

​We reached the edge of the sidewalk.

The street was eerily empty.

​"There!" I shouted.

​A black sedan was idling at the red light half a block down. It wasn't one of Dante's SUVs, but at this point, it didn't matter.

​"Hey! Stop!" I waved my arms.

​The car accelerated toward us and screeched to a halt. The windows were heavily tinted.

​"Help us!" I cried, reaching for the rear door handle. "He's been shot!"

​The door unlocked instantly.

​"Get in," Dante said, shoving Lorenzo into the backseat first. I climbed in after him, and Dante followed, slamming the door shut.

​"Hospital," Dante told the driver. "New York Presbyterian. Move!"

​"Lorenzo, stay with me," I said, keeping pressure on his shoulder. I looked out the window, expecting to see the familiar turns toward the hospital.

​But the car didn't turn. It kept going straight, heading toward the industrial district near the piers.

​"Hey," Dante said, leaning forward. "You missed the turn. I said to the hospital."

​The driver remained silent. He reached out and pressed a button on the dashboard.

​"Dante," I said, my voice rising in alarm. "Where is he going?"

​"Turn this car around now!" Dante reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. "The locks are on."

​Suddenly, a faint hissing sound filled the cabin. It was coming from the vents.

​"What is that?" I asked, sniffing the air.

​Dante's eyes went wide. "Gas. Elara, don't breathe it in!"

​"I'm trying!" I pulled the collar of my dress over my nose, but the air was already thick with it. My head began to spin. "Lorenzo, are you okay?"

​I looked down at Lorenzo. His head had fallen back against the seat. His eyes were rolled back, and his hand had slipped from his wound.

​"Lorenzo?" I shook him, but he didn't move.

​"Dante... I can't..." My vision was blurring. The car seemed to be stretching and folding.

​"Hold on, Elara," Dante gasped. He was fighting it, his hand clawing at the window glass, trying to break it. But his movements were slow, like he was moving through water.

​"Lorenzo!" I screamed one last time, but my voice was just a whisper.

​Dante's head slumped forward against the front seat.

My own body felt like lead.

I looked at the back of the driver's head, he hadn't flinched.

He was wearing an oxygen mask.

​The last thing I saw was the silver of my dress as everything turned pitch black.