The Cost of Trust

Celeste woke up knowing something was wrong.

It wasn’t fear — she’d grown accustomed to that over the last few weeks. It was the absence of it. The house felt too still. Too quiet.

She swung her legs off the bed and padded toward the window.

Below, the courtyard was empty.

No guards.

Her pulse jumped.

She reached for her phone.

No signal.

That was when the door opened.

Dante stood there, fully dressed, gun holstered at his side.

“Don’t move,” he said quietly.

Her heart slammed into her ribs. “What’s happening?”

“You were right,” he replied. “Trust has a cost.”

Before she could ask more, the sound shattered the silence —

Glass exploding.

Gunfire.

She screamed as Dante crossed the room in two strides, gripping her arm and pulling her down behind the bed.

“Stay with me,” he ordered. “No matter what happens, you do not leave my sight.”

Her breath came in sharp gasps. “You said this place was secure!”

“It was,” he said grimly. “Which means this came from inside.”

The truth landed hard.

Adrian.

Her phone buzzed suddenly — one bar of signal flickering back to life.

A message appeared.

Adrian: I warned you.

Rage flared through her fear. “He’s here.”

“I know.”

Another shot rang out — closer.

Dante pressed his forehead briefly to hers. “If anything happens to me—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “You don’t get to martyr yourself.”

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “You’re learning.”

He pulled her to her feet. “We’re moving.”

They slipped into the hallway just as a body hit the floor — one of Dante’s men, blood blooming across his chest.

Celeste froze.

Dante didn’t.

He fired twice. Precise. Final.

“Eyes forward,” he said sharply. “Do not look back.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking until his hand tightened around hers.

They descended through a hidden stairwell, alarms blaring now. The house was no longer quiet — it was chaos.

As they reached the lower level, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

Adrian.

Gun raised. Smile intact.

“Cousin,” Adrian said lightly. “You always did hate surprises.”

Celeste’s breath caught.

“You set this up,” she said hoarsely.

Adrian’s eyes flicked to her. “Ah. The counselor speaks.”

Dante shifted slightly — placing himself between them.

“You’re finished,” Dante said.

Adrian chuckled. “You said that once before. How did prison treat you?”

The air crackled with tension.

“You don’t have to do this,” Celeste said. “Ethan will turn on you too.”

Adrian shrugged. “Men like Ethan don’t matter. Power does.”

He stepped closer. “And you, Celeste? You’re worth more alive than dead.”

Dante’s grip tightened.

“You touch her,” he said softly, “and I will forget we share blood.”

Adrian smiled wider. “That’s the problem, Dante. You already have.”

Gunfire erupted again — from above.

Adrian cursed. “Another time.”

He vanished into a side corridor.

Silence fell — broken only by Celeste’s ragged breathing.

She slid down the wall, knees buckling.

Dante knelt in front of her immediately, hands steady on her shoulders.

“Look at me,” he said.

She did. Her eyes burned.

“You knew this would happen,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“And you still brought me here.”

“Yes.”

Tears finally spilled over. “You lied.”

“I withheld,” he corrected. “Because if you knew how deep this went, you’d have run.”

She laughed weakly. “You still think I’d run?”

His jaw tightened. “I hoped you would.”

That surprised her.

“Why?”

“Because loving me,” he said quietly, “is a death sentence.”

Her heart twisted painfully.

Sirens approached — police. Backup.

Dante stood, pulling her up with him.

“You’re bleeding,” she said suddenly.

A dark stain spread across his side.

“It’s nothing.”

“You were shot.”

“Later,” he dismissed. “Right now, I need you calm.”

She grabbed his shirt. “You don’t get to decide that alone anymore.”

His gaze locked onto hers — raw, unguarded.

“Then stay,” he said. “Stay and let me protect you properly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means no more distance. No more pretending this is just business.”

Her pulse raced.

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll still protect you,” he said. “But it will hurt more.”

She swallowed hard.

This was the moment.

Trust him fully…

or become collateral.

She stepped closer, pressing her forehead to his chest.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered.

His breath shuddered.

“I should stop this,” he murmured.

“But you won’t.”

“No.”

His hand slid into her hair — not claiming, not forcing. Grounding.

Outside, the war continued.

Inside, something irreversible had begun.

If staying with Dante means choosing danger over safety, will Celeste still walk away when love demands blood?