Chapter Fourteen - Caught in the Act

My fingers trembled—

Not from fear.

Not anymore.

From adrenaline.

From fury.

The bobby pin scraped against the inside of the cuff lock as I twisted it, listening for that tiny metallic click that meant freedom.

Just a few seconds more—

Just a little pressure—

Just—

A warm breath slid over the back of my neck.

“Lose something?”

My entire body went rigid.

The pin was plucked cleanly from my fingers.

I turned slowly, already knowing who I’d see.

Dante stood inches away, his frame blocking the only exit, his expression a perfect blend of dark amusement and something sharper—an accusation… or admiration.

“Persistent,” he murmured, holding up the bent bobby pin between two fingers. “But a little predictable.”

“Give that back.”

It came out lower than I intended.

He smirked. “No.”

I pulled at my partially undone cuff, but his hand snapped out, grabbing the chain before I could free myself completely. He hooked the loose cuff back into place with infuriating ease.

The click of it sealing shut felt louder than the door.

“You were told to stay put,” he said.

“And you were told to die,” I shot back. “Yet here you are.”

He chuckled. A dark, low sound that slid over my skin like the brush of a knife.

“Always so sharp,” he said. “But unfortunately for you… your family isn’t.”

That made my blood go cold.

His eyes sharpened, watching every flicker of my reaction. He held up his phone, tapping the screen with a lazy swipe.

“I thought you’d like to hear what your dear brothers have been up to.”

“My brothers?” My stomach knotted. “They’re supposed to be home. Protecting our territory. Watching the front lines. That’s what Father said—”

“Well,” he drawled, “apparently they disagreed.”

He turned the phone toward me.

Grainy surveillance footage.

Two men.

My brothers.

Vito and Luca.

Entering a warehouse I recognized immediately.

A Moretti stash point.

Three states away.

“What the hell…” My throat tightened. “What—what are they doing in New Jersey?”

“Excellent question,” Dante said. “One I’d like answered as well.”

The footage showed them raiding the safehouse, grabbing documents, weapons, cash—everything that wasn’t bolted down.

My pulse hammered.

“They’re messing with DeCavalcante territory,” I whispered, horrified. “Are they insane? They’re three states over! That’s not our turf—”

“Yet they’re there,” Dante said. “Very intentionally.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered. “They were ordered to stay home. To keep the city secure. To hold the lines so no one else invades our territory. Father was clear. He was—he was always clear.”

Dante stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“So… why did they suddenly flee across the country the moment he disappeared?”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

My mind spun fast, trying to assemble pieces that didn’t fit.

“They wouldn’t abandon their post,” I said. “Not for this. Not unless—”

“Unless they were ordered,” Dante finished softly.

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat.

Ordered.

By who?

Father?

Mother?

Someone else?

But if Father ordered them—

“Why didn’t they take me?” I whispered.

Dante’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second. Just a fraction.

“That,” he said, “is what I want to know.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with something sharp and ugly.

Fear.

Anger.

Hurt.

“They left me,” I said.

It wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t even disbelief anymore.

Just a statement of fact.

Dante watched me closely.

“You’ve been abandoned, little killer.”

My jaw clenched. “Don’t call me that.”

“Aren’t you?” he asked, stepping closer, his breath stirring the hair along my jaw. “A weapon left behind. Disposable. Sacrificed.”

I flinched.

A tiny, involuntary movement.

But he saw it.

Of course he did.

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper meant to crumble walls.

“Your brothers are making moves without you. Your father is off the map. Your mother has resurfaced far away from you. And you? You were left behind like a loose thread.”

My vision blurred for half a second—not with tears, but with rage so thick I could taste it.

“My family wouldn’t sacrifice me,” I hissed. “Not for anything.”

Dante’s smile was gentle and cruel at once.

“They already did.”

Something inside me cracked.

Not broken—

Resharpened.

Reforged.

If my family truly left me to be captured, tortured, killed…

then they weren’t my family anymore.

Dante watched the shift happen.

Watched the fire reignite behind my eyes.

Watched me rebuild myself from ashes right in front of him.

“I’m not disposable,” I whispered.

“No,” he agreed softly. “You’re not.”

He tucked the stolen bobby pin into his pocket.

“But you are mine to deal with now.”

I lifted my chin.

“We’ll see about that.”

Dante laughed under his breath, dark amusement flickering across his face.

“Oh, Aria,” he murmured, touching my cuffed wrist lightly—almost reverently.

“You really think you can still escape?”

I smirked back.

“Watch me.”