Chapter 13 - The Aftermath of Violence
The silence that followed was deafening. The mercenaries and Marco were gone, dragged out into the freezing night. The cabin was wrecked, wind howling through the broken glass.
Dante stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his hands coated in blood. He refused to look at Maria or Elena. He felt the shame of his violent nature burning in his chest. He had promised to protect them, but he had brought the war directly to their living room.
“I’ll have Enzo arrange a plane,” Dante said gruffly, turning his back on them. “I’ll set you up in Europe. New identities. Enough money to never worry again. It’s the only way you’ll be safe from me.”
He started to walk away, fully intending to disappear from their lives forever.
“Dante.”
He stopped, but didn't turn around.
He felt small arms wrap around his knees. Elena pressed her face into his blood-stained suit pants. “Don't go, Mr. Dante. The thunder is too loud without you.”
Dante’s breath caught in his throat. He slowly dropped to one knee, looking at the little girl who had shattered his cold heart. Maria knelt beside them, wrapping her arms around Dante’s neck, pressing her forehead against his.
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“We aren't running,” Maria whispered fiercely, wiping a smudge of blood from his cheek. “You are our home now. Wherever you are, that is where we belong. We accept the dark, Dante, because you bring us the light.”
Dante closed his eyes, wrapping his massive arms around the two of them, burying his face in Maria’s shoulder. For the first time in his brutal, violent life, Dante Caruso wept.
