Chapter 3 - The Night Dante Locked Down New YorkBy midnight, Sophie understood that Dante Russo did not make empty threats.
At 11:47 P.M., three cars stopped outside Bellamy House.
At 11:49, the restaurant closed.
At 11:52, Dante called every member of his security network.
At 11:57, Sophie watched from a second-floor window as intersections around the building filled with black vehicles.
Nobody looked panicked.
Nobody ran.
Everything happened with frightening efficiency.
“What are you doing?” Sophie asked.
Dante stood behind her.
“Making sure no one reaches you.”
“I never asked you to lock down the city.”
“I know.”
She turned.
“You can't just decide what happens to me.”
“I can decide what happens around you.”
“That sounds suspiciously similar.”
His jaw tightened.
“Then tell me where you want to go.”
She didn't answer.
Because she had nowhere.
Dante studied her.
“That's what I thought.”
She hated that he was right.
He walked away.
Then stopped.
“You have one room you can leave from.”
Sophie looked at him.
“What?”
He pointed toward a hallway.
“There is a door at the end.”
“Where does it go?”
“Outside.”
She stared.
“Why tell me?”
“Because you deserve to know you have a choice.”
He walked toward the room.
Sophie followed.
At the end of the hallway was a plain wooden door.
Dante unlocked it.
Behind it was a private staircase leading to a quiet street.
“No guards?”
“Not visible.”
“Why leave this open?”
“Because I promised you one door would always remain open.”
Her throat tightened.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything you say.”
She looked down.
“That is dangerous.”
“For me, maybe.”
The following morning, Sophie discovered another side of Dante.
She woke to find breakfast waiting outside her room.
No note.
No demand.
Just coffee.
She carried it downstairs.
Dante was sitting at the long table, reading reports.
“Sleep?”
“A little.”
He nodded.
She sat opposite him.
“Tell me about Room 317.”
His expression changed.
“My father investigated the hospital records.”
“What happened there?”
“Your parents weren't pronounced dead in Room 317.”
Sophie froze.
“What?”
“They were declared dead at the scene.”
“Then why was Room 317 mentioned?”
“Because your father was taken there before the police arrived.”
“Why?”
“To identify someone.”
“Who?”
Dante looked at her.
“Victor Hale.”
Sophie felt her stomach turn.
“Victor was at the accident?”
“Yes.”
“Was he responsible?”
“We don't know.”
“That's not good enough.”
“No.”
“You're hiding something.”
“Yes.”
She stood.
“I'm leaving.”
Dante didn't stop her.
She walked to the door.
Then he said, “Your father saved my life.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“I was twelve.”
Dante leaned back.
“My father had taken me to a warehouse. A rival group attacked us. Your father was there.”
He looked down at his hands.
“He pushed me behind a truck before the shooting started.”
Sophie stared.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“He saved you?”
“He died protecting me.”
Her anger faltered.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you were already afraid of everyone connected to your past.”
“You thought telling me would make it worse.”
“I thought telling you while you were vulnerable might make you stay for the wrong reasons.”
She looked away.
“Did you ever use me?”
His silence was answer enough.
“Once.”
“When?”
“When I first hired you.”
Sophie nodded slowly.
“That hurts.”
“I know.”
“But you stopped.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante answered without hesitation.
“Because I fell in love with you.”
The room went silent.
Sophie looked at him.
“You can't say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know what to do with them.”
“You don't have to do anything.”
“That doesn't make them disappear.”
“I know.”
She sat again.
“I don't know how to love someone without being afraid.”
Dante's expression softened.
“Then don't love me yet.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“Let me earn the right to be loved.”
Her eyes filled.
Before she could respond, the front door exploded open.
Men shouted.
Glass shattered.
Dante moved instantly.
He pulled Sophie behind the table.
“Stay down.”
Gunfire cracked outside.
She covered her ears.
Dante drew a weapon from beneath his jacket.
For the first time, Sophie saw the man everyone feared.
Cold.
Controlled.
Lethal.
But he never once pointed the weapon toward where she was standing.
He moved around her.
Protecting her with his own body.
The attack lasted less than two minutes.
Then silence.
Dante returned.
“You okay?”
Sophie nodded, trembling.
He crouched beside her.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“No one is taking you.”
“Who were they?”
“Men working for Marcus.”
“How do you know?”
“One of them had this.”
He held out a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Sophie stared.
It showed her mother's grave.
On the back were three words.
Room 317 tonight.
Dante's face hardened.
“No.”
Sophie looked at him.
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“My parents are connected to this.”
“I said no.”
She stood.
“You don't get to decide.”
Dante rose.
“You think this is about curiosity?”
“My parents died.”
“And I know what that feels like.”
“You don't know what it feels like to spend twenty-four years believing the story you were told was true.”
He went silent.
She stepped closer.
“I have spent my whole life with half a truth.”
Dante's voice became quiet.
“And I have spent mine watching people die because they looked for the other half.”
She softened.
“What happened to your mother?”
He looked away.
“Victor Hale killed her.”
Sophie stopped.
Dante continued.
“My mother discovered he was stealing from both families. He arranged her death.”
“And your father?”
“Covered it up.”
“Why?”
“Because he was afraid.”
Sophie whispered, “And Marcus?”
“Marcus believes everyone betrayed him except his father.”
“So he thinks I'm part of the betrayal.”
“Yes.”
The lights suddenly went out.
Sophie grabbed Dante's sleeve.
He reached for her hand.
“I'm here.”
A voice came from the darkness.
“Hello, Sophie.”
She froze.
Marcus.
Dante's entire body went still.
Then the emergency lights turned on.
No one was there.
Except a phone sitting on the table.
It began ringing.
Dante answered.
Marcus spoke.
“Good evening, Russo.”
Dante's voice became deadly.
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“What do you want?”
“I want what belongs to me.”
Dante stared at Sophie.
“She doesn't belong to you.”
Marcus laughed softly.
“That is where you're wrong.”
The call ended.
On the screen was a photograph.
Sophie.
Standing beside Dante.
Taken only minutes earlier.
On the bottom was a message.
Room 317. Midnight. Come alone, or everyone at Bellamy House dies.
Dante looked at Sophie.
She looked back.
Neither said a word.
Because for the first time, they both understood.
Marcus wasn't trying to separate them.
May you like
He was testing how far Dante would go to protect her.
And Dante had just been given a reason to destroy every boundary he had ever respected.
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