Chapter 3 - The Weight of the Ring
The days blurred into a tense cycle of deception and preparation,
as I learned to navigate the labyrinth of the Bellavita estate.
My father called me every evening,
his voice full of a desperate,
greedy hope that made me want to scream.
“Has he died yet?”
he would ask,
not even bothering to hide his intentions.
“The accounts are waiting,
Claire.”
“Just a signature from the widow,
and we are set for life.”
I would hang up on him,
feeling the bile rise in my throat.
He didn't care that he had sold me to a criminal empire;
he only cared about the payout.
Inside the mansion,
the air was thick with the scent of a coming storm.
Marco was holding secret meetings in the library,
gathering the capos who were tired of waiting for a dead man’s orders.
I would stand in the shadows of the hallway,
listening to their whispers of rebellion and blood.
They were planning to move on the docks,
to seize the shipment that Dante had secured before the attack.
When I told Dante,
he didn't look surprised.
“Let them go,”
he said,
his voice cold and calculating.
“The shipment is a trap.”
“I leaked the coordinates months ago,
knowing Marco would be the first to bite.”
He was standing now,
pacing the small room like a caged tiger.
He had been secretly exercising,
using the furniture to regain the muscle mass he had lost.
I watched him,
marveling at the sheer willpower that allowed him to defy medicine.
“You’re going to let your own men be arrested?”
I asked,
shocked by the ruthlessness of his plan.
Dante stopped,
turning to look at me with eyes that were as hard as diamonds.
“They are not my men if they follow Marco,”
he replied.
“In this life,
loyalty is the only currency that matters.”
“Anyone who steps onto those docks is a traitor to the Bellavita name.”
He walked over to me,
closing the distance until I was backed against the door.
“Do you find me cruel,
Claire?”
I looked up at him,
seeing the scars of the attack on his neck and chest.
“I find you a survivor,”
I said,
my voice barely a whisper.
He reached out,
his hand cupping my cheek,
his thumb brushing against my lower lip.
It was the first time he had touched me without the intent of interrogation.
“I never intended to have a wife,”
he said,
his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“But you are the only thing in this world that isn't a shadow.”
The kiss was sudden,
a collision of desperation and heat that made my head spin.
It tasted of copper and rain,
of a man who was fighting for his life and a woman who had finally found a reason to fight.
For a moment,
the mansion disappeared,
the guards disappeared,
and there was only the frantic beating of two hearts in a room full of death.
He pulled away,
his breathing ragged,
his eyes searching mine for any sign of regret.
I didn't look away.
“They are coming for you tonight,
Dante,”
I said,
referring to Marco’s plan to ‘unplug’ the machines.
“I know,”
he said,
a dark light dancing in his eyes.
“And I’ll be waiting.”
He handed me a small,
silver pistol,
the cold metal feeling heavy in my hand.
“Stay behind the curtain,”
he commanded.
“And don't look until the screaming stops.”
I nodded,
the weight of the ring on my finger finally feeling like a badge of honor.
May you like
The lion was no longer sleeping.
He was hungry.
