Crimson Secret

The drive back to the penthouse was suffocating. The tension between them, thick and heavy, filled the space between Alessia and Dante like a living thing. Neither had spoken since leaving the warehouse. Alessia’s eyes were locked on the blur of city lights outside the car window, while Dante gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The roar of the engine was the only sound, masking the silent storm raging within both of them.

How did it come to this? Alessia’s mind spun in circles, replaying the confrontation with Victor over and over again. Every word he’d said had chipped away at the fragile trust she and Dante had been building, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. She had never intended to hide so much from Dante, but she had wanted to protect him from her past. From Victor.

And now she realized how naive that had been. She should have known better. Secrets always come to light. Especially in their world.

Dante’s thoughts were equally chaotic, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He had always prided himself on his control—on being able to see every move, every angle. But tonight, that control had slipped. She lied to me.

No. Alessia hadn’t lied outright, but withholding the truth felt like a betrayal all the same. And it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Worse than the anger was the gnawing fear beneath it. Dante had let her in. Slowly, cautiously, but he had let her into his world. Into his heart. And now, all he could see was how easily she could tear it apart.

He risked a glance at her, her profile framed by the city lights, and his chest tightened. He hated this. Hated that she had this power over him. She could break me, if I let her.

As they pulled into the underground garage of the penthouse, the silence still hung thick between them. Alessia stepped out of the car, her movements stiff, her body tense. Dante followed, but kept his distance, his mind still swirling with the weight of her revelation. He wasn’t ready to talk—wasn’t sure what there was to say.

They entered the elevator, the small space amplifying the distance between them, even though they stood just inches apart. Alessia felt her pulse quicken, the words she had been rehearsing since the warehouse pressing against her lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. How do I fix this? How could she explain what Victor had meant to her once, and how far she had come since leaving him behind?

The doors slid open, and they stepped into the penthouse, the familiar space feeling alien now. Dante strode ahead, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. His movements were sharp, purposeful. Alessia watched as he poured himself a drink, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.

She couldn’t take the silence any longer. “We need to talk.”

Dante didn’t look at her as he took a long sip of his drink. The amber liquid burned down his throat, but it didn’t dull the ache in his chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

His voice was cold, and it cut through her like a knife. Alessia took a deep breath, forcing herself to step closer. “There is. You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But I didn’t betray you, Dante. I was trying to protect you.”

At that, Dante’s head snapped toward her, his eyes blazing. “Protect me? By keeping me in the dark?” His voice was tight, controlled, but Alessia could hear the hurt underneath. “You think I need protecting, Alessia?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t tell you about Victor because I thought it was part of my past. Something I could leave behind. I didn’t want it to affect what we were building.”

“What we were building?” Dante laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “Do you even hear yourself? You can’t build anything on secrets. You should’ve told me the truth.”

Alessia flinched at the coldness in his tone, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I was afraid,” she admitted softly. “Afraid that if you knew the whole truth, you’d never trust me. That you’d see me the way Victor does—as someone disposable. Someone who could be used and discarded.”

Dante’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “And now?”

“I’m not that person anymore,” Alessia said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’m not the same woman who trusted Victor. I left him because I realized what he was. What I had become working for him. And I’ve spent every day since trying to be someone better. Someone you could trust.”

Dante’s heart twisted at her words, but he couldn’t let go of the doubt gnawing at him. “How do I know that, Alessia? How do I know you’re not still hiding something?”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she was silent. There were no more secrets to hide, but she understood why he doubted her. After tonight, it felt like everything between them had shattered. “You don’t,” she whispered. “All I can ask is that you trust what you’ve seen. What we’ve been through together.”

Dante turned away from her, pacing the length of the room as he tried to process what she was saying. His mind was a war zone, torn between the woman he had come to trust—maybe even love—and the betrayal he felt at her silence. Do I even know who she is?

The truth was, he had come to rely on Alessia. Not just for her skills or her loyalty, but for something more. Something he had never allowed himself to feel for anyone. And that was the most dangerous part of all.

Alessia watched him pace, her heart breaking at the distance that had grown between them. She could see the walls going back up, the ones she had worked so hard to tear down. If she didn’t reach him now, she might lose him for good.

“I know I made a mistake,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice was stronger now, the desperation slipping away, replaced by resolve. “But I’m standing here, telling you the truth. I’m not asking for forgiveness, Dante. I’m asking for a chance.”

He stopped pacing, his back still to her. Her words hit him hard, but he didn’t turn around. His mind was racing, caught between anger and the pull of something deeper, something he didn’t want to admit to himself. A chance.

But could he give her that?

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost pained. “You don’t understand, Alessia. I can’t afford to trust anyone. Not like this. Not when I’ve already let you in.”

His admission caught her off guard, and Alessia’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. For a moment, the walls between them cracked, and she saw the man beneath the power, the man who had been betrayed too many times to count.

She took another step closer, her voice soft but steady. “I don’t want to be your weakness, Dante. I want to be your strength. But you have to let me in. Completely.”

Dante’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that they could move past this, that she wasn’t just another person who would eventually betray him. But the fear—fear of vulnerability, of losing control—was too strong.

“I don’t know if I can,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alessia’s breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. She knew the risk she was taking, knew how deeply Dante guarded his heart. But if there was any chance of saving what they had, she had to push. “You already have,” she said quietly. “You just won’t admit it.”

Dante’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew she was right. He had let her in, even when he hadn’t meant to. And now, standing here with her so close, he realized how much he had to lose.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Alessia’s heart pounded in her chest, every second that passed feeling like a lifetime. She could feel the weight of the decision Dante was grappling with, and she knew there was nothing more she could say.

It was up to him now.

After what felt like an eternity, Dante finally turned to face her. His eyes, though still guarded, were no longer cold. There was something softer there, something fragile.

“I want to trust you,” he said, his voice rough. “But this changes things, Alessia. It changes everything.”

Alessia nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I know.”

Dante stepped closer, closing the distance between them. He reached out, his hand brushing her arm, a tentative touch that felt like a lifeline. “I don’t know where this leaves us,” he said quietly. “But I’m not ready to let go.”

Alessia’s breath caught at his words, a flicker of hope lighting in her chest. She met his gaze, searching for the truth in his eyes. And there, beneath the layers of hurt and anger, she saw it—the part of Dante that still wanted her by his side.

“Neither am I,” she whispered.

For the first time that night, the weight between them lifted, if only slightly. Dante's hand lingered on her arm, and Alessia felt the faintest pull toward him. It wasn’t an embrace—not yet—but it was a crack in the wall he had built. And for now, that was enough.

They stood there, in the silence of the penthouse, the city still moving outside the windows, oblivious to the battle that had just taken place between them. The air felt charged, every breath they took heavy with the understanding that things had changed, but there was still something left to salvage.

Dante’s eyes darkened as he took her in, his anger not entirely gone but no longer overwhelming. He hadn’t forgiven her, not completely, but something in him had shifted. The part of him that couldn’t bear to lose her was fighting against the part that wanted to push her away. He hated how she had power over him, how deeply she’d gotten under his skin.

But as much as he hated it, he couldn’t deny that he needed her.

“You put me in an impossible position,” he said, his voice rough, his hand finally dropping from her arm. “Victor knew exactly what he was doing, and now... now I have to figure out how to deal with him without losing everything.”

Alessia swallowed, her heart pounding. She knew what he meant. Victor was dangerous—always had been. And now, with Marco in his grasp, Dante’s empire was teetering on the edge of chaos. The last thing he needed was uncertainty, especially when it came to her.

“I’ll help you,” she said, stepping closer. “Whatever it takes, I’ll fix this.”

Dante’s gaze flickered, his jaw tightening. “This isn’t something you can just fix, Alessia. You’re part of the problem now.”

The words were like a slap, but Alessia didn’t flinch. She had expected as much. The damage was done, and she had no illusions about how difficult it would be to regain Dante’s trust. But she had to try.

“I know I am,” she said softly, her eyes steady on his. “But I’m also the solution.”

Dante stared at her, his mind racing. Could he trust her again? Could he afford to? He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that she wasn’t like Victor—that she wasn’t playing him the way Victor had played her. But that doubt lingered, gnawing at him.

Still, there was something about the way she looked at him, the way she stood there with such conviction, that made him want to give her that chance. Despite everything, despite his anger, Dante couldn’t shake the feeling that Alessia was telling the truth.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the edge of anger softened.

Alessia nodded, her heart in her throat. “Yes. I do. I believe in us.”

The words hung between them, charged with meaning. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on them.

Then, finally, Dante sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned away from her, pacing the room again. “Victor won’t stop. You know that, right? He’ll keep coming. He’ll use everything he has to take me down—and that includes you.”

Alessia’s chest tightened. She knew Dante was right. Victor had already made his move, using her past to drive a wedge between them. And if she didn’t stop him, he would keep exploiting that weakness until there was nothing left of the bond she and Dante had worked so hard to build.

But she wouldn’t let that happen. Not again.

“Then let me deal with him,” she said, her voice firm. “I know how Victor thinks. I know what he’s capable of. If anyone can take him down, it’s me.”

Dante turned to face her, his eyes hard. “You really think I’d let you go after him alone? After everything that’s happened?”

“I’m not asking for permission,” Alessia replied, her tone equally firm. “I’m offering a solution. You need me, Dante. You may not want to admit it, but you do.”

Dante’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He hated the truth of her words, hated how right she was. He did need her. Not just for her skills, but for something deeper. Something he didn’t want to put into words.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to think clearly. His mind was still clouded with anger, with doubt, but Alessia’s presence—her unwavering determination—cut through the noise.

“I can’t lose anyone else,” Dante said finally, his voice rough with emotion he hadn’t meant to reveal.

Alessia’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected him to be so raw, so open. But she could see it now, the fear in his eyes. Dante was more than just angry. He was afraid. Afraid of losing control. Afraid of losing her.

“You won’t,” she whispered, stepping closer. “You won’t lose me.”

For a long moment, they stood there, inches apart, the space between them charged with everything they hadn’t said. Dante’s heart pounded in his chest, torn between the instinct to push her away and the overwhelming need to hold her close.

He closed his eyes, his mind racing. Can I really trust her again?

When he opened his eyes, his decision was made.

“We deal with Victor together,” he said, his voice low and firm. “But if you ever keep something like this from me again...”

“I won’t,” Alessia cut in, her voice strong with conviction. “I promise.”

Dante studied her for a moment longer, searching her face for any sign of deception. But all he saw was sincerity, a determination that matched his own. He wanted to believe her. And for now, he would.

“Then we’ll do this your way,” Dante said, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving hers. “But make no mistake, Alessia—if Victor so much as breathes wrong, I will kill him.”

Alessia didn’t flinch. She nodded, her eyes hardening with the same resolve. “So will I.”

For the first time in hours, a semblance of understanding passed between them. It wasn’t perfect. The cracks were still there, the wounds still fresh. But for now, they had a common enemy. And in their world, that was enough to keep them moving forward.

Dante stepped back, taking another drink before setting the glass down on the counter. “We’ll start by finding Marco. He’s the key to all of this.”

Alessia nodded, though her mind was already racing ahead. Marco was important, but she knew Victor wouldn’t stop there. He had a plan—he always did. And whatever it was, it would take everything they had to stop him.

“We’ll get him back,” Alessia said softly, her voice carrying more weight than just the mission. It was a promise—to Dante, to herself—that they would get through this. Together.

Dante met her gaze, his eyes searching hers for a long moment. Then, without another word, he nodded and turned, walking toward his office to start planning the next move.

Alessia watched him go, her heart heavy but determined. They weren’t whole—not yet. But they weren’t broken either. And as long as they still had that, there was hope.

But as she turned to follow him, a cold dread settled in her chest. Victor knows too much.

And the worst part? Alessia feared that in the end, it might not be enough to save them both.