Chapter 17: Requiem Without Melody

DANTE

I stood at the window, staring across the estate’s endless grounds, hands clasped behind my back.

Behind me, Felix perched on the edge of my desk, flipping through the schematics for the new biological GPS device. I didn’t have to turn to know he was watching me.

With a shift that reeked of ease, he leaned back.

“What are we going to do about the girl?”

My jaw tightened. I kept my gaze fixed on the landscape.

“She’s being handled,” I said flatly. “She’ll be safe here under surveillance. The tracker will ensure that.”

Felix hummed, casual on the surface—but I caught the bite beneath it. Sharp. Probing.

“Safe, huh?” His head tilted, studying me. “Seems like revenge isn’t top priority anymore. What happened to that unshakable resolve?”

My fingers flexed behind my back. “Things changed.”

He snapped the folder shut and set it aside. “Yeah, I bet they did. Can’t wait for round two with that little hellcat.”

His eyes sparked with amusement.

“First woman to drop me to my knees, and not in the good way. You’ve always been controlled, Dante. No one gets under your skin. And yet, here she is. What’s that like?”

I turned. Too fast.

“It’s not like that.”

Felix leaned forward, grin stretching.

“Oh, come on. You’re not fooling anyone.” He gave me that look. The one that always made my stomach twist. “You like her.”

The words landed harder than they should have.

I locked my face down. Turned back to the window.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Felix never let go once he had something to needle.

“I’ve seen how you’ve been acting. Distracted. And here I thought she’d be locked up somewhere, paying for disrespecting you. But instead, you’re moving her into the main house? That’s not exactly standard protocol.”

He leaned in slightly.

“Just saying, you’ve never let anyone get this close before.”

I turned again, voice cutting.

“This has nothing to do with that.”

Felix raised both hands in mock surrender, but the smirk stuck.

“Alright, alright.”

He stepped toward the door, then paused, glancing back.

“Dante Kincade, feared by many, yet completely wrapped around one girl’s little finger. Never thought I’d see the day.”

My patience snapped. I grabbed the nearest book and hurled it.

“Get the fuck out.”

Felix ducked. The book slammed against the wall behind him.

He straightened, still laughing as he disappeared down the hall, his voice echoing.

“Touchy!”

I hated how easy it was to lose control.

I exhaled through clenched teeth. His words had landed too close. A weight pressed against my chest. Cold. Heavy.

The estate blurred outside the window. Gone. Replaced by the memory I never outran.

My mother’s body. Cold. Still. Lifeless.

That image never stayed buried for long.

Love costs everything.

I’d sworn I’d never be like him. Never repeat my father’s mistakes. And yet here I was. Standing on the same ledge. Staring down.

I pulled in a breath, steadying myself.

I should check on her. She’d be hungover after last night’s chaos.

The guesthouse felt too far. She’d need water. Aspirin. Something in her stomach.

A smile tugged at my mouth.

Ridiculous girl. The way she belted out that song, soaked to the skin, fully clothed in the tub—it had been pure chaos.

Then she dunked under the water with that dramatic Oh oh! right after I told her she’d made a mess.

I almost laughed again.

She was impossible. And still...

She made me feel something I’d never felt before. Something that scared the hell out of me.

Warmth.

Disarmed. Seen.

And for the first time in forever... happy.

The realization slid in. Soft and dangerous.

I wasn’t used to this. Couldn’t remember the last time a smile came this easy.

With Marisol, everything was different.

No one challenged me the way she did. She was maddening. Unpredictable. Like wildfire licking through the ice I’d buried myself in.

She hadn’t even tried. Still, she got in. Right past everything I’d spent a lifetime locking down.

I was losing control.

And worse... I didn’t want it back.

And that terrified me.

* * *

DANTE

The memory hit hard. Like a scent I hadn’t expected.

I was sixteen, leaning against my bedroom window. Cool Washington air slipped through the open frame, tinged with pine and the faint crackle of the downstairs fireplace.

Outside, my parents sat by the firepit.

Mom tucked her head against Dad’s shoulder, laughter drifting into the night like it belonged there.

I couldn’t make out their words, but I didn’t need to.

The way she smiled at him, the lazy curl of his arm around her—that was happiness. Light. Effortless.

A rare kind of peace.

Then she bolted, grinning like a kid as she took off toward the garden. Dad followed. A slow, teasing smile spreading across his face as he chased after her.

I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching them zigzag through the yard like a scene from some old movie.

Mom’s dress caught the breeze. Dad’s longer stride closed the distance until he caught her by the waist and spun her into his arms.

Back then, I’d thought that was love.

Easy. A little ridiculous. Real.

God, I was naive.

Love wasn’t easy. It was sharp. Reckless. Fatal.

I learned that the hard way.

My favorite movie played in the background, but I wasn’t really watching.

I kept glancing between the clock and the front door. Mom should’ve been home by now.

Afternoon light faded outside, stretching long shadows across the room.

The usual warmth had vanished: the steady hum of laughter, the soft clatter of kitchen sounds—all gone.

In its place, silence coiled in my gut. Tight. Suffocating.

I shouldn’t have stayed home.

She’d asked me to go with her. Just errands, she’d said. I’d begged off, sinking deeper into the couch, wrapped in the soft comfort of old films.

I’d waved her away with a lazy smile. Told her next time.

God. Why didn’t I just go?

The phone rang. Sharp. Slicing through the stillness.

From the study, Dad answered.

At first, I barely noticed. But then his voice shifted. Low. Strained.

I reached for the remote and dropped the volume. My heart pounded, too loud in my ears.

A pause. Then the crash of glass.

“They have her.”

Dad’s voice cut through the walls. Rough. Fractured.

My body locked up. I stared at the screen but didn’t see a thing. My heart slammed against my ribs, every beat raw, aching.

I had never heard him like that. Not Dad. Not the man who always knew what to do.

His voice snapped back into command.

“Get everyone on it. Now.”

Footsteps thundered down the hallway. Men shouted. Doors slammed.

The world tilted.

I clutched the couch cushion like it could anchor me. But nothing made sense.

They can’t really have her. Mom’s always fine. She’s always—

The phone rang again.

Dad snatched it up. “What do you want?” His voice, low and lethal.

Silence. Long. Heavy.

He stilled.

The room changed around him.

No more barking orders.

He was listening now.

Then came the words I’d never forget.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Desperation cracked through his voice. A sound I didn’t recognize.

Dad. Untouchable. Unshakeable. Frozen. Powerless.

This isn’t happening. They can’t hurt her. They can’t take her away from us.

Thoughts crashed into each other. Tangled. Useless.

Mom wasn’t coming home.

And for the first time in my life, the world didn’t feel safe.

I wanted to ask what was happening. To move. To speak. But I couldn’t.

Fear gripped me. Wrapped tight around my chest. Locked my limbs in place.

All I could do was listen. To Dad’s voice cracking at the edges. To the silence pressing in. To the drumbeat of my pulse in my ears.

Everything unraveled.

The world I thought I knew. The safety I’d never questioned.

It crumbled.