Let's Go Home

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse like a thunderclap.

Cassandra's scream tore through the silence—raw, desperate, piercing. She lunged for the car door, her fingers fumbling with the handle, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.

"Cassandra, no!" Marco grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "You can't—"

"Let me go!" She struggled against him, her nails digging into his wrist. "Dante!"

"Stay here." Marco's voice was sharp, commanding. "I'll go."

He was out of the car before she could argue, his gun drawn, his footsteps silent against the concrete. Cassandra pressed herself against the window, her breath fogging the glass, her eyes straining to see through the darkness.

She couldn't see anything. Just shadows. Just silence.

Then another gunshot.

---

The warehouse was chaos.

Dante had ducked behind a stack of crates when the first shot rang out. He didn't know who fired—Isabella or one of her men. He didn't care. All he cared about was getting to her. Ending this.

He peered around the crate. Isabella was still standing, her gun raised, her smile cold and steady.

"You missed," she said.

"I don't miss."

"Then why am I still alive?"

Dante didn't answer. He moved—fast, fluid, trained. He fired twice. Isabella dodged, disappearing behind a pillar.

"You can't win this," she called out. "I have people everywhere. I know everything. I know about the baby. I know about the name. I know everything."

"You know nothing."

"I know you're scared." Her voice was soft, mocking. "I know you're terrified of losing her. Of losing the baby. Of losing everything you've built."

Dante's jaw tightened. His grip on the gun tightened.

"You're right," he said. "I am scared. But that doesn't mean I'll let you win."

---

Marco found Cassandra in the car.

She was still pressing against the window, her eyes wide, her body trembling. He opened the door and slid in beside her.

"Stay down," he said.

"What happened? Is he okay?"

"I don't know yet."

Cassandra's heart stopped. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know." Marco's voice was tight. "There were shots. I couldn't see—"

"Then go back!" She grabbed his arm. "Go back and help him!"

"I can't leave you."

"I don't care about me! I care about him!"

Marco stared at her. Her eyes were blazing. Her jaw was set.

"You're just like him," he muttered.

He got out of the car.

---

Dante moved through the warehouse.

His footsteps were silent. His breathing was controlled. He'd been trained for this—trained to hunt, to fight, to kill. He'd spent his whole life in the shadows. He knew how to move without being seen.

Isabella was somewhere ahead. He could hear her breathing. Could sense her presence.

"You know," she called out, "I never wanted to hurt you. I loved you. I really did."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"I was scared. I was young. I made mistakes."

"We all make mistakes." Dante stepped around a corner. "The difference is, most people don't try to kill the person they claim to love."

Isabella laughed—a cold, hollow sound. "You're one to talk. You almost killed me. Remember?"

Dante didn't answer.

"I remember," Isabella continued. "I remember the look in your eyes. The rage. The hatred. You would have killed me if I hadn't run."

"I should have."

"But you didn't. Because you loved me." She stepped out of the shadows. Her gun was raised. Her smile was cold. "And you still do. Somewhere deep down. You still love me."

Dante stared at her. His gun was raised. His finger was on the trigger.

"You're wrong," he said.

---

Marco found Dante in the warehouse.

He was standing in the center of the room, his gun still raised, his body still. Isabella was on the ground—not dead, but wounded. Her gun was out of reach. Her face was twisted with pain.

"It's over," Dante said.

Marco nodded. He moved to secure Isabella, cuffing her hands behind her back.

"Where's Cassandra?"

"In the car. She's safe."

Dante's shoulders sagged. Relief flooded through him.

"Good. Let's go home."

---

Cassandra was waiting when they emerged.

She ran to Dante, throwing her arms around him, her body shaking with sobs.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered. "I thought—"

"I'm here." He held her tight. "I'm here."

"I was so scared."

"I know." He kissed her forehead. "But it's over. She's not going to hurt us anymore."

---

They returned home.

The house was quiet. The staff had been sent away. Only Evan and Daniel remained, waiting in the study.

Dante told them everything. About Isabella. About the trap. About the traitor.

"It's over," he said. "Finally over."

---

That night, Cassandra lay in bed, her hand on her stomach.

The baby kicked—a strong, steady flutter. She smiled.

"We did it," she whispered. "We survived."

Dante pulled her close. "We did."

She closed her eyes.

For the first time in months, she slept peacefully.