Chapter 19: Marcus's Warning

Elena found Marcus Chen waiting outside her apartment building at seven in the morning, leaning against a black Mercedes with the casual confidence of someone who owned the entire street.

She stopped on the bottom step, her coffee growing cold in her hand. "Are you following me now?"

"Protecting you," Marcus corrected, pushing off the car. His expression was unreadable behind dark sunglasses. "There's a difference."

"I didn't ask for protection." Elena descended the last few steps, intending to walk past him to her own car. She had a meeting with the community board in an hour, and she refused to be late because Dante's security detail decided she needed a babysitter.

Marcus moved smoothly into her path. Not threatening, but undeniably blocking her way. "Miss Moretti, we need to talk."

"About what? How does your boss think he can just insert himself into my life? How he shows up at my center with his checkbook and his perfect smile and expects me to fall in line like everyone else?"

"About the fact that you're in danger and you don't even know it."

Something in his tone made Elena pause. Marcus had always been professional, polite even, but right now his voice carried an edge of genuine concern that caught her off guard.

"What are you talking about?"

Marcus glanced around the street, cataloging faces and movements with the trained awareness of someone who'd spent years watching for threats. "Not here. Get in the car."

"I'm not getting in your car."

"Then let me buy you breakfast. Somewhere public. Somewhere you'll feel safe." He removed his sunglasses, and Elena saw something in his eyes that made her stomach tighten. Fear. Marcus Chen, the man who moved like coiled steel and spoke in measured tones, was afraid. "Please."

That single word decided it.

Twenty minutes later, they sat in a corner booth at Rosie's Diner, a neighborhood institution that served the best pancakes in South Chicago and had seen Elena through countless early mornings and late night study sessions. The familiar smell of coffee and bacon should have been comforting, but Elena's appetite had vanished the moment she saw Marcus's expression.

He waited until the waitress poured their coffee and retreated before speaking. "How much has Dante told you about his past?"

"Enough." Elena wrapped her hands around her mug, seeking warmth. "He lost his sister. He blames himself. He's trying to make amends by helping people like the kids at my center."

"That's the sanitized version." Marcus leaned forward, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "The truth is much darker, and it's something you need to understand before you get any deeper into this relationship."

"We don't have a relationship. He's a donor. That's all."

Marcus's laugh was bitter. "Is that what you tell yourself? Elena, I've worked for Dante for eight years. I've seen him with dozens of women, models and socialites and women who would do anything to be on his arm. He's never looked at any of them the way he looks at you."

Heat crept up Elena's neck. "You're imagining things."

"I'm not. And that's the problem." Marcus pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and turned it toward her. "Do you know who this is?"

The photo showed a man in his fifties, distinguished looking with silver hair and cold eyes. He wore an expensive suit and stood on what looked like a yacht, champagne glass in hand.

"No. Should I?"

"Victor Kane. He runs one of the largest criminal organizations in the Midwest. Drugs, human trafficking, extortion, murder for hire. Everything you can imagine and worse." Marcus swiped to the next photo, this one showing the same man at what looked like a charity gala, smiling and shaking hands with politicians. "He's also extremely well connected. Judges, police chiefs, city council members. He's untouchable."

Elena's coffee threatened to come back up. "What does this have to do with Dante?"

"Victor Kane's organization was responsible for Isabella's death. Dante's sister." Marcus's jaw tightened. "She witnessed something she shouldn't have when she was volunteering at a women's shelter. One of Kane's trafficking operations. They killed her to keep her quiet, made it look like a random mugging gone wrong. She was nineteen years old."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with grief and rage.

"I'm sorry," Elena whispered. "That's horrible. But I still don't understand what this has to do with me."

"Dante has been hunting Kane for five years. Gathering evidence, disrupting operations, cutting off his supply chains. He's used his money and his connections to wage a private war against one of the most dangerous men in Chicago." Marcus leaned back, his expression grim. "And three days ago, Kane found out."

Ice flooded Elena's veins. "How?"

"We're not sure yet. Someone in Dante's organization talked, or Kane got smart and started putting pieces together. Either way, he knows. And when men like Victor Kane feel threatened, they don't go after the threat directly. They go after what the threat cares about."

Understanding crashed over Elena like a wave. "You think he'll come after me."

"I think you're already on his radar. The community center, your work with at-risk youth, your growing relationship with Dante. Kane does his homework. He knows exactly how to hurt people, and he knows that Dante has feelings for you."

"That's insane. Dante barely knows me. We've spent maybe a dozen hours together total."

"And in those hours, you've gotten closer to him than anyone has in years." Marcus's voice softened. "Elena, I've watched Dante build walls around himself so high that nobody could reach him. He turned himself into something cold and calculating because that's what he needed to be to survive his grief and pursue his revenge. But you got through those walls. You made him remember what it's like to care about something other than vengeance."

Elena shook her head, denying words that resonated too deeply with the feelings she'd been trying to suppress. "Even if that's true, what am I supposed to do? Walk away? Pretend the past few weeks didn't happen?"

"I'm asking you to be careful. To understand what you're walking into." Marcus pulled out another phone, this one different from the first, and slid it across the table. "This is a secure phone. My number is already programmed in. If anything happens, anything at all that makes you uncomfortable or scared, you call me immediately. Don't hesitate. Don't try to handle it yourself."

Elena stared at the phone like it was a snake. "You're scaring me."

"Good. You should be scared. Victor Kane doesn't make idle threats, and he doesn't leave witnesses." Marcus stood, pulling out his wallet and dropping bills on the table. "I need to get back. Dante doesn't know I'm talking to you, and it needs to stay that way. He'd be furious if he knew I was involving you in this."

"Wait." Elena grabbed his wrist. "Does Dante know Kane is targeting me?"

Marcus hesitated, and that pause told her everything she needed to know.

"He knows," she said flatly. "That's why he's been so persistent about seeing me. About spending time together. He's not interested in me. He's trying to protect me."

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" Bitterness flooded her mouth. "God, I'm such an idiot. I actually thought—" She cut herself off, unwilling to voice the naive hope that had been growing in her chest. "Tell your boss he doesn't need to waste his time babysitting me. I can take care of myself."

"Elena, wait—"

But she was already sliding out of the booth, leaving the secure phone on the table and walking toward the door. Marcus called after her, but she didn't turn around. She couldn't. If she did, he'd see the tears burning in her eyes, and she'd already given Dante Salvatore and his world too much of herself.

The morning air hit her face like a slap, cold and clarifying. Elena walked quickly toward her car, her mind racing. Everything from the past few weeks suddenly made terrible sense. Dante's intensity. His protectiveness. The way he'd shown up at exactly the right moments.

He hadn't been falling for her. He'd been keeping her safe from threats she didn't even know existed.

And she'd been falling for him like some stupid romantic heroine in a movie, believing that a man like Dante Salvatore could actually want someone like her for real.

Elena unlocked her car and slid behind the wheel, her hands shaking. She should feel angry. Betrayed. Used.

Instead, she felt terrified.

Because Marcus's warning had planted a seed of awareness she couldn't ignore. The way that black SUV had been parked across from her apartment for the past three days. The man in the coffee shop yesterday who'd watched her a little too intently. The feeling she'd been having lately of eyes on her back.

She'd attributed it all to paranoia, to stress, to exhaustion.

But what if it wasn't? What if Victor Kane really was watching her? What if every moment she'd spent with Dante had painted a target on her back?

Elena's phone rang, making her jump. Dante's name flashed on the screen.

She stared at it, torn between answering and throwing the phone out the window. On the fourth ring, she answered.

"Elena." His voice was warm, concerned. "Marcus just called me. Are you okay?"

"Did you know?" The words came out sharper than she intended. "About Kane targeting me?"

Silence. Heavy and damning.

"Dante, did you know?"

"Yes." The single word landed like a hammer. "Elena, I can explain—"

She hung up.

Her phone immediately started ringing again, but she silenced it and started the car. She needed to think. Needed to figure out what the hell she was going to do.

But as she pulled out of the parking lot, Elena caught movement in her rearview mirror. A black sedan, two cars back, made the same turn she did.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she watched it follow her through the next two intersections, maintaining a careful distance.

Marcus's words echoed in her mind: If anything happens, anything at all that makes you uncomfortable or scared, you call me immediately.

Elena reached for the phone Marcus had given her, still sitting on her passenger seat where she'd thrown it.

Her fingers had just closed around it when the black sedan accelerated, pulling alongside her car.

The passenger window rolled down, and Elena saw the gun a split second before everything went to hell.