Chapter 6 - The Visitor in the Dead of Night
The wind howled off Lake Michigan, rattling the heavy glass panes of the North Shore estate.
Evelyn lay awake in the massive, velvet-draped guest bed, staring up at the intricate plaster molding of the ceiling. The pain in her ribs had dulled to a dull ache thanks to the medication, but sleep refused to claim her.
Clutched in her hand was the Swiss flight itinerary Dante had given her hours earlier.
Tomorrow morning.
She could vanish. She could become a ghost, living safely in the mountains where no one would ever find her, where no one would ever raise a hand against her again. It was a blank slate. Exactly what she had always wanted.
A soft, distinct knock sounded at her bedroom door.
Evelyn froze. She pulled the thick duvet up to her chin, her heart skipping a beat. For three years, knocks in the night meant terror, pain, and humiliation.
"Evelyn," Dante’s voice came quietly through the heavy oak door. "Are you awake?"
Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as her ribs protested. She wrapped a silk robe tightly around her shoulders and walked across the plush carpet, turning the brass handle.
Dante stood in the dimly lit hallway. He had removed his suit jacket; his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the lean muscle and faint scars of a hard life. He looked tired, the hard edges of his predatory reputation softened by the dim light and the lateness of the hour.
"I saw the light under your door," Dante said, his dark eyes searching her face. "Are you in pain?"
"No," Evelyn lied softly, leaning against the doorframe. "I just... I couldn't sleep."
Dante nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the white paper clutched in her hand—the flight itinerary. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.
"You haven't packed," he noted quietly.
Evelyn looked down at the ticket, then back up at him. "Dante... why did you give me this?"
"Because it’s your freedom," he answered without hesitation. "It’s what you deserve. No strings attached. No obligations to me, to your past, or to the war I’m fighting."
"And you?" Evelyn asked, stepping slightly closer to him, braver than she had ever felt in her life. "What happens to you when I leave?"
Dante’s jaw tightened. He looked away, staring down the long hallway toward the dark staircase.
"I finish what I started," Dante said coldly, his voice returning to the iron-clad resolve that terrified the criminal underworld of Chicago. "I dismantle the remaining shell corporations. I put Grant away for the rest of his natural life. And I burn down the old regime."
"Alone," Evelyn whispered.
Dante turned his gaze back to her, and for a second, the mask slipped entirely. She saw the profound, crushing loneliness of a man who had spent a decade fueled by nothing but vengeance and ghosts.
"I’ve been alone since the day your father died, Evelyn," Dante said softly, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. "It’s the only state I know."
May you like
Before she could think, before her fear could stop her, Evelyn reached out and touched his forearm. The skin beneath her fingertips was warm, solid, and real.
Dante froze. His breathing hitched, his dark eyes locking onto her hand, then rising slowly to meet her gaze.
