Chapter 7 – Trigger Lessons

Dante’s POV

Dante had been pacing his room for almost twenty minutes, the same line on the floor now starting to look like a runway. His head was loud. Too loud. The pictures from the envelope kept replaying in his mind like a bad movie he could not stop.

He hated being blindsided. It was the one thing he never tolerated.

He stopped pacing and dragged a hand through his hair. “Who the hell took those photos?”

Two names came to mind instantly.

The first was Vincenzo Carbone. A rat with a face that always looked like it needed a punch. They had grown up in the same circles, attended the same expensive schools where boys were trained to become dangerous men. Vincenzo had always wanted what Dante had. Power. Control. Respect. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never get close to it. So he settled for petty games and cheap shots. The type of man who would send photos instead of bullets because he liked the slow burn.

The second was Elena DeMarco. A woman Dante once trusted, back when trust meant something. She was smart, vicious, and always two steps ahead of everyone. They broke ties years ago after she tried to sell information about him to a rival family. She vanished after that, leaving behind whispers. If anyone wanted to send a message strong enough to rattle him, it would be her.

He exhaled, staring at the floor. Both were possible. Both had motives. But he did not have time to stand around and guess.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed one person he trusted with anything that involved blood, secrets, or both.

The call rang once before a voice picked up. “Boss?”

“Luca,” Dante said. “I need you to start digging. Someone sent photos to my house. Someone who knows too much.”

“Who do you think it is?”

“Carbone or DeMarco,” Dante replied. “Start with them. Check their movements this week. Check who they paid. Anyone who had reason to get close.”

Luca hummed. “On it.”

“Call me the second you find anything.”

“Yes, boss.”

Dante ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. He finally stopped pacing and walked out of his room. He needed to keep an eye on Iris until he knew exactly what storm was coming for them.

He moved down the hallway and stepped into the living room. Iris was there, sitting on the sofa with one leg folded under her, scrolling on her phone like all she cared about was work email and not the fact that someone out there wanted to use her as a target.

She still wore her work clothes. The stiff blazer, the pencil skirt, the heels. She looked stressed, stubborn, and way too calm for someone who almost got dragged into a mafia war.

He crossed his arms. “Go to your room.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Go in, change into something comfy, and meet me in the car.”

She blinked, then frowned. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not,” she shot back. “I’m supposed to be at work.”

“You are not going to work today. I said that already.”

Iris scoffed. “Dante, for God’s sake, I have a job. A real job. I cannot disappear because you feel like being dramatic.”

He walked closer. “This is not drama. Someone sent threats to my phone. They mentioned you. You are not stepping foot out of this house without me.”

She huffed and stood. “You don’t own me.”

“That is not what I said.”

“It’s what you sound like.”

“I sound like a man trying to keep you alive.”

She crossed her arms, chin up. “I can keep myself alive.”

He stared at her for a long second. “Iris. Go and change.”

“Why?”

“Because if I have to pick you up and carry you to the damn car, I will.”

Her mouth opened like she wanted to argue. Then she saw the look on his face and rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.

“Fine. I’m going,” she muttered. “Happy now?”

“I will be when you stop talking and start moving.”

She grumbled something that sounded like “you’re annoying” and walked away.

Dante let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.

A few minutes later, she came down again.

He froze.

Iris wore a hoodie and joggers, her hair pulled up, face clean and soft. She looked nothing like the attorney with sharp words and a stiff walk. She looked younger. Prettier. Rugged in a way that made his chest tighten.

She frowned at him. “Why are you staring?”

“I wasn’t staring.” He lied

She blinked. “Whatever.”

“Let’s go.”

They walked to the garage, and she paused when she saw which car he sat in.

“Why are we taking the Cybertruck?” she asked, sliding in beside him. “Why not your shiny Porsche that looks like it came out of a movie?”

He started the engine. “The Cybertruck has better security.”

“Better security,” she repeated. “So now we’re… what? Going into a war zone?”

“You will know when we get there.”

She glared. “You love being vague.”

“Only when it annoys you.”

“That’s toxic behavior.”

“That’s your opinion.”

She sucked her teeth and leaned back in the seat.

The ride was quiet after that, but not peaceful. The silence felt tight. Heavy. Dante could feel her thinking. He could feel himself thinking too, mostly about last night and how soft she felt under his hands.

He kept his eyes on the road.

She kept her eyes anywhere but on him.

The tension was too strong though.

She cleared her throat. “Where the hell are we?”

“You will see.”

“I swear if you take me to some secret mafia cave, I’m jumping out of the car.”

“Relax. You’re safe.”

“That is what kidnappers say.”

He smirked despite himself.

She looked out the window, eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes scanned everything outside, trying to place their location. When the large steel sign came into view, she froze.

Her head whipped toward him. “Are we at a gun range?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You need to learn how to shoot.”

“No, I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, Dante. I’m an attorney. Not a mafia princess. I can’t be walking around with a gun.”

“You will not be walking around with it. You will know how to use it in case someone tries to put a bullet in you.”

She stared at him like he had lost his mind. “I cannot believe this. I argue in court. I don’t shoot things.”

“You are going to learn.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She threw her hands up. “Do you hear yourself? I work on cases, not play Call of Duty in real life.”

He turned off the engine and faced her. “Get out of the car.”

“No.”

“Iris.”

“I said no.”

“Fine,” he said calmly. “I’ll carry you.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He opened his door. “Watch me.”

She hissed and finally got out. “You’re a menace.”

“Thank you. I work hard.”

She glared at him the whole walk inside.

The moment they entered, he handed her protective gear. She put them on with irritation on her face.

He loaded the gun, checked it, then stepped behind her. “Relax your shoulders.”

“I’m relaxed,” she snapped.

“No, you’re stiff.”

“Because you’re breathing on my neck.”

“That is not my fault.”

She swallowed. “Move back a little.”

“No,” he said, standing closer. “You need to hold it steady. Let me show you.”

His hands slid over hers, guiding her grip. She sucked in a sharp breath. Her ass brushed his hips when he adjusted her stance. He felt her tense instantly.

“Dante,” she whispered. “Stop pressing against me.”

“I’m not pressing. You keep moving back.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

He positioned her arms. “Now aim.”

“I can’t think straight.”

“You don’t need to think. You need to pull.”

“This is insane.”

“Pull the trigger, Iris.”

He felt her breath shake.

She squeezed.

The gun fired, loud and aimed.

Her whole body jolted, smacking back against his chest. The impact sent a hot jolt through him. Her ass pressed right into his crotch and he almost lost his mind.

She gasped. “Oh my God. Did I hit something?”

He steadied her hand. “You hit the target.”

She smiled, proud of herself. It made his stomach twist.

“Again,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“Because you need to learn.”

She sighed and raised the gun again. “This better not become a regular thing.”

“It will.”

“You’re obsessed with control.”

“And you like pretending you don’t like that.”

She breathed out a small laugh. “You think too much of yourself.”

“And you think too much in general.”

Her shot fired again.

She leaned back into him again.

The tension between them grew hotter, stronger.

Dante knew exactly what he was doing.

And he knew she felt it too.