Chapter 8 - THE STORM BEFORE THE DAWNThree days passed in the fortress of North Hill like a dream.
For Molly, life had turned upside down so fast her head still spun. She had a wardrobe filled with clothes that didn't smell like bleach, meals prepared by a private chef who treated her like royalty, and a massive, loyal dog who followed her from room to room like a shadow.
And then there was Dante.
He wasn't the monster the city whispered about in terrified whispers—at least, not to her. In the evenings, they sat by the roaring stone fireplace in his private library, talking about everything and nothing. He listened to her ideas with a fierce intensity, as if every word she spoke carried the weight of scripture.
On the fourth night, the storm broke.
Heavy thunder rolled across the North Hill ridge, shaking the tall glass windows of the mansion. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark, mist-shrouded gardens outside.
Molly stood by the library window, holding a cup of chamomile tea, watching the rain beat against the panes.
Dante walked up behind her, stopping just inches away. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the radiating heat of his body, the absolute stillness of his presence.
"You're thinking about tomorrow," Dante said quietly.
Molly turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the glass. "How did you know?"
"Because the quiet never lasts," Dante replied, taking the tea cup from her hands and setting it on a nearby table. He turned her gently to face him. "Tomorrow, Salvatore Rossi’s men are going to try to breach this house. They think I'm weak because I spent four days looking for a dog. They think my focus is divided."
Molly’s breath hitched, her eyes widening with sudden fear. "Dante... they're coming here? For us?"
"For me," Dante corrected, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumbs gently brushing her cheekbones. His touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting sharply with the lethal promise in his eyes. "And they are going to find out why legends are told about the Vance family in Chicago. But I need you to promise me something, Molly."
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"What?" she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Stay in the panic room behind the master suite," Dante said, his voice dropping to a fierce, unyielding command. "No matter what you hear. No matter who calls your name. Stay inside until I come open the door myself."
