Chapter 8

By the time Dante returned to the building's parking lot, Gwendolyn was already waiting in her car. She noticed his dumb grin as he stared at his phone and asked, "Danny, did something happen? You look chipper."

"Oh, nothing. I made a really cool friend while I was out on a stroll."

"Already? That's great! But… I hope you didn't make friends from the wrong places. You can be too naive for your own goo—"

"Gwen!"

His sudden interjection startled Gwendolyn. "What?"

"Is it me, or are those cars tailing us?" Dante asked, glancing back at the vans behind them. His training as a hunter in the mountains under Athos had sharpened his observation skills.

Gwendolyn checked the rearview mirror. "This? It's dinnertime. It's not uncommon for a bunch of cars to end up behind us when everyone's heading out to eat. You might be overthinking."

Dante frowned. "Hmm. Maybe."

He fell silent for a moment, then asked, "Hey, this doesn't look like the way home."

"I didn't say we're going home," Gwendolyn replied calmly.

"Where are we going?"

"Shopping, sweetie! Look at your clothes. They're about to burst at the seams. And that short-sleeved shirt you're wearing? I could almost call it a tank top on you! Your growth spurt is insane!"

Dante gave a helpless smile. He had barely been over five-foot-two just two years ago. Now he was nearing six feet tall.

Soon, they arrived at the shopping district.

Gwendolyn's simple office attire, muted in color, did little to hide her regal air and striking beauty. Heads turned, but no one dared look at her directly. After all, she was too imposing.

They reached the floor with the men's apparel stores.

Dante watched as she made her contribution to the economy, sweeping everything within reach without ever checking a price tag.

The sales assistant behind her stood stunned, unable to deliver her usual spiel. She busied herself furiously with a calculator, estimating the total cost. Then she shot a look of gratitude at the handsome young man following this well-stacked capitalist.

'Goddamn, I've only just started this shift! Thank you, rich people! Thank you for my sweet, sweet commission fees!' she thought, then added quietly, "If only I were this filthy rich. I'd have gladly kept a hottie for myself as well…"

Dante felt equally bewildered. He had assumed they shared a similar social status during their training together, but now he realized just how wrong he had been. The combination of Gwendolyn's talent and wealth could easily crush him.

After a few steps, even the weight of the shopping bags began to wear him down. His eyes brightened at the sight of a bench.

No sooner had he sat down than Gwendolyn grumbled, "Why are you sitting? You're supposed to be shopping with me!"

For the first time, Dante discovered the literal weight of Gwendolyn's love.

"I can't go on any longer, Gwen! I can't even walk under all these bags!" he whined.

A voice whispered through the clothing racks, "Master Dante."

His expression hardened instantly. "How did it go?"

"Smoothly. Everything's in here."

A folder appeared in the empty space next to him.

Dante skimmed its contents quickly. "Hmph. Who knew the Wagners were planning something like this? Interesting."

"One more thing," the figure said. "A few foreign vultures have been tailing you for a while. I'm sure you noticed."

Dante kept the folder. "I know. I bet the Wagners hired them. That's why I told you to find their weaknesses."

"You didn't need to handle it that way, Master Dante. A simple signal from you, and the Wagners would be dead by morning. How's that?"

"Your job is done. I'll handle the rest. Besides, I'd like to give murder a try. Will I get into conflict with the Hrestian government for this?"

"They're here illegally. The Hrestian government wouldn't care."

"Great. Then I'll test my skills with them and see what I'm capable of."

Dante stood and glanced around. Gwendolyn was gone. The timing was perfect. He slipped out of the mall quietly and headed toward a secluded corner where few people would appear.

As expected, a few men in black emerged from their hiding spots.

"She's not with him. This is it!" Eric barked into one of their phones. "Be discreet! I don't want him dead. I want him alive so he can kneel before me and beg for my forgiveness. Got it?"

The men exchanged annoyed glances. They were hitmen, not ordinary kidnappers. They turned to a man with a buzzcut—their leader.

He flicked the cigarette he had been smoking onto the floor and stomped it out. "Two of you, standby. The other two, follow me."

The three followed Dante into a building, stopping at the elevator.

Dante was already inside, staring at them.

"Coming in?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The buzzcut man entered silently, and his startled henchmen followed.

The elevator ascended in silence. The air thickened, heavy with tension and killing intent.

Dante slipped his phone into his pocket and asked without looking at them, "The door opens on the tenth floor. Does anyone want to get out before then?"

The buzzcut man narrowed his eyes. "You know what we're here for?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dante replied, turning to face them. "Who wears a suit like this during the day? You might as well wear a neon sign that says, 'Hi, I'm a hitman.' You're running out of time. Get on with it."

The buzzcut man stepped back, snickering. "You knew what we do and still thought it wise to provoke us? Bold. Get him."

The two men lunged, daggers drawn.

"Sorry, but I'm not the one trapped with you. You're trapped with me."

Dante moved faster than they could react and grabbed their wrists.

"He's fast!" one of them shouted, startled.

Dante twisted their arms and dislocated them. The daggers clattered, but Dante caught them effortlessly, flashing toward the two men.

Sharp pain struck their necks before they could retreat. Warm blood sprayed as the last thing they saw was Dante standing before the buzzcut man, back pressed against him.

Dante's confidence was absolute. He didn't even need to look at his final target.

The two men collapsed, dead.

The buzzcut man stiffened, his muscles tense. His previously relaxed posture vanished, and it was replaced by panic. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead.

He threw a punch.

Dante smirked and countered with an even faster uppercut, pinning the arm against the wall. Before the man could react, Dante covered his mouth and drove the second dagger into his chest.

"Did the Wagners hire you? Eric Wagner?" Dante asked.

Only that moron could have orchestrated something so harebrained.

The buzzcut man felt life slipping away, yet irritably lingered longer than he wished. "Yes. He's nearby. We can take you to him."

Dante nodded. "Appreciate the honesty. Any last words?"

"Just… make it quick."

The elevator opened. Dante walked out, spotless, as a figure waited in the corner.

"Well, well. You're awfully calm for your first kill. You really are his son," the figure said.

Dante raised an eyebrow. Could his bloodthirsty father's genes be the reason?

"Clean up the corpses," Dante instructed, eyes on his work. "Eric is nearby. We shouldn't keep him waiting."