All Chapters of UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Dante's Pov"Boss, you just spent two million on an accountant."Nico's voice carried a note of confusion I rarely heard from him. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror at the terrified young man pressed against the opposite door.I didn't answer. I was still trying to understand what the hell I'd just done.Two million dollars. For a person. Luca Marino, twenty-eight, accountant. Those three facts and the fierce defiance in his eyes when he refused to kneel had cost me two million dollars.I'd attended that auction for intelligence. Viktor was selling something unusual, Marco had said. We needed to know what the Bratva was up to, who was buying what. I'd watched the proceedings with disgust I kept carefully hidden. Then the people started. That's when my stomach turned.I catalogued the buyers, memorized faces, and took mental notes.Then they brought out Luca Marino.Despite his terror, when they tried to force him to kneel, he fought back.They hit him. He went down. And then he

Dante's Pov"He worked for fourteen hours straight."Nico's voice carried a note of concern. It was past one in the morning."Did he eat?""Made himself a sandwich around four thirty. Otherwise, just coffee and snacks."The meeting with Marco and Teresa had been brutal. Marco was willing to trust my judgment. Teresa had watched me with calculating eyes, asking pointed questions about my "intelligence asset."She knew something was off."He went straight to bed.""Go home, Nico. Get some sleep."After he left, I poured myself a scotch. I should have felt guilty. But mostly I felt protective of the man sleeping down the hall.My phone buzzed. Father Pietro.“Still want to talk about last night?”“Tomorrow. Late afternoon. Your office?”“I'll put the coffee on.”My mind kept circling back to the meeting. Marco had pulled me aside. "Dante, I need you to be honest with me. Is this really about intelligence?""It's complicated.""Complicated how?""He was going to be sold to Dmitri Sokolov.

Dante’s POVI couldn’t sleep. Again. The penthouse felt too damn quiet, too charged, like the air itself was waiting for something to snap. Luca’s presence had infiltrated every corner—his scent on the terrace furniture, his notes scattered across the dining table, his voice echoing in my head from our conversations. I’d told myself it was just the novelty of having someone new around, someone who challenged me without fear. But that was bullshit. It was him. Those sharp brown eyes that saw too much, that stubborn mouth that curved into sarcasm even when he was terrified.Teresa’s words haunted me: Finish what you started. What the hell did that even mean? Let him go and watch Viktor or Rossi tear him apart? Or keep him here, turning him into something more than an asset, more than a prisoner? The thought twisted in my gut, a dark hunger I hadn’t felt in years. Not since before Marco’s death buried everything under layers of duty and numbness.I poured another scotch in my office, sta

Dante’s POVThe warehouse loomed like a fortress under the sodium lights, but tonight it felt like a trap. Nico met us at the side entrance, his tattooed arms crossed, face grim. “Alessio’s inside with three of Rossi’s goons. Claiming it’s a ‘meeting’ about territory. But I overheard— they’re planning to snatch Luca if you show.”Dmitri, patched up and shaky from the doc’s quick detox shot, nodded. “That’s the play. Alessio sells you out, Rossi gets Luca as payment, Viktor gets the scraps.”Luca’s hand brushed mine in the shadows, a silent reminder of our frenzied fuck in the office. His mark on my soul burned hotter than any bullet. But now wasn’t the time for that fire—not yet.“Chen’s call,” I said. “She knows about you, Dmitri. Says there’s a bigger player in my family.”Nico’s eyes widened. “Teresa? No way.”“Or Marco’s ghost,” Luca muttered. “But ghosts don’t embezzle.”We infiltrated through a back vent, silent as shadows. Inside, voices echoed: Alessio’s smooth tenor, Rossi’s

Luca’s POVThe docks erupted into pandemonium—gunfire cracking like thunder, fog swirling like ghosts in the crossfire. Viktor’s men surged from the shadows, their silhouettes monstrous under the flickering lamps. Chen was down, clutching her shoulder, blood soaking her vest, but she fired back one-handed, barking orders to her scattered team. Dante hauled me behind a rusted container, his body a human shield as bullets pinged off metal. Dmitri covered our flank, his shots precise despite the tremors in his hands.But all of that faded when I saw Sofia.My sister—my sweet, studious Sofia, who I’d shielded from every shadow in our lives—stepped out from behind a stack of crates, a compact pistol gripped in her steady hands. Her white coat from the hospital was gone, replaced by dark jeans and a leather jacket that screamed deliberate. Her eyes, usually soft with concern, burned with a fury I’d never seen. She aimed straight at Viktor, who laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that cut through