Dante's POV
"No." The word came out of me like a blast.
Aria stared at the photo of her friend being shoved into a car, her face drained of all color. "Elena. Oh God, they have Elena."
"This is Isabella's doing," Marco said, appearing in the doorway. He must have been watching my phone. "She's escalating. If we don't react in the next hour, she'll kill the friend to prove she's serious."
I watched Aria's hands start to shake. Her breath came faster, fear rising in her eyes. This was the moment that would define everything—would she break? Would she beg me to give her life for her friend's?
"Give me to them." Aria's voice was calm despite her tears. "Let Isabella have me. Just save Elena. Please."
And there it was. The generosity I'd been waiting to see crack into selfish survival. Except it didn't crack. It held strong.
"No," I answered.
"She's innocent!" Aria grabbed my arm, and I felt the despair in her grip. "She has nothing to do with any of this. She's an ER nurse who saves lives. You can't let her die because of me—"
"I can't let you die either."
The words surprised us both.
Aria blinked at me. "Why not? You said yourself—I'm payment for my father's sins. Use me to save her. That's the right thing to do."
"The right thing." I laughed bitterly. "When did I become someone who does the right thing?"
"Boss." Marco's voice held a warning. "We need to decide. Now."
I looked at the picture again. Elena Russo, twenty-nine, ER nurse at Chicago General. She'd been Aria's friend since high school—one of the only people who'd stayed in Aria's life when everyone else had abandoned her.
Isabella had taken her specifically because she knew Aria would trade herself. It was smart. Vicious. Exactly what I would have done.
Which meant I knew how to counter it.
"Marco, get our team ready. Full tactical gear." I pulled out my phone and started typing. "We're not moving anyone. We're taking Elena back."
"Are you insane?" Marco stared at me. "Isabella will have her watched. This is obviously a trap."
"Of course it's a trap." I ended my message and sent it. "But Isabella thinks she's dealing with a businessman who'll negotiate. She doesn't know I spent fifteen years learning to be a ghost. We'll be in and out before she knows what happened."
Aria was still holding my arm. "You'll save her? Really?"
"I'll try." I met her eyes. "But if it comes down to a choice between your friend and my men, I'm picking my men. Understand?"
She nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you. Thank you—"
"Don't thank me yet." I pulled away from her touch. "And understand something else: I'm not doing this because I'm suddenly a good person. I'm doing it because Isabella threatening innocents to get to you means you're more valuable than I thought. Which makes me more curious about why. "
That was partly true. But there was another reason I couldn't quite accept, even to myself.
Watching Aria offer to give herself for her friend had reminded me of something I'd forgotten. Something buried under fifteen years of hate.
My sister Sofia used to do that. Offer herself up to protect others. One time, she'd taken the blame when I'd broken our mother's favorite vase. She'd been grounded for a week, never telling anyone it was me.
"I don't want to be like them," she'd said when I asked why. "The bad people who only think about themselves. I want to be someone who makes things better."
She'd been six years old.
And Lorenzo Morelli had burned her alive before she turned nine.
"Dante?" Aria's soft voice pulled me back. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I shook off the memory. "Stay here. Don't try to run. If you run, Isabella's people will find you before mine do, and I won't be able to help you."
"I won't run," she promised. "Not while Elena's in danger."
As I turned to leave, she spoke again.
"Dante? Why are you really helping her?"
I should have lied. Should have reinforced that I was the monster, the devil, the guy incapable of mercy. But something about the way she looked at me—without judgment, just honest curiosity—made the truth slip out.
"Because fifteen years ago, someone should have helped my sister," I said quietly. "No one did. She died alone and scared, and I've lived with that every single day since." I met Aria's amber eyes. "I won't let history repeat itself. Not if I can stop it."
For a moment, we just stared at each other. Then Aria did something that cracked another piece of my carefully built defense.
She smiled. Small, sad, but sincere.
"Your sister would be proud of you," she whispered. "For choosing to save someone instead of destroy."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I left before she could see how much they'd affected me.
Marco was waiting in the hallway. "That was stupid."
"Which part?"
"All of it. Telling her about Sofia. Promising to help her friend. Getting deeply involved with your hostage." He crossed his arms. "You're supposed to be hurting her, Dante. Not relating to her."
"I'm not relating to her."
"You looked at her like she was human. Like she mattered." Marco's face was serious. "That's dangerous. The moment she becomes real to you instead of just a tool for revenge—that's when you've lost."
"I haven't lost anything."
"Haven't you?" Marco stepped closer. "Three days ago, you were ready to beat Lorenzo's daughter for information. Now you're risking your men to save her friend. What changed?"
Everything. Nothing. I didn't know anymore.
"Just get the team ready," I told. "We move in thirty minutes."
Marco left, but his words echoed in my head. He was right. I was getting too close to Aria. Starting to see her as a person instead of a tool.
That had to stop.
After we saved Elena, I'd remind Aria exactly who I was. I'd show her the devil again, not the broken man underneath. I'd rebuild the walls she was somehow able to crack.
Because Marco was right about one thing: the moment I started caring about Aria Morelli, I'd lose everything I'd spent fifteen years building.
I couldn't let that happen.
I wouldn't let that happen.
But as I geared up for the rescue mission, I caught myself thinking about how Aria had looked when she smiled at me. Like she'd seen something in me worth saving.
Like I was still human.
My phone buzzed. A video message from an unknown number.
I opened it, and my blood turned to ice.
Elena was tied to a chair in what looked like a building. Her face was bruised, her nurse's clothes torn. And standing behind her with a gun to her head was Isabella Morelli, smiling like a beauty queen.
"Hello, Mr. Salvatore," Isabella purred into the camera. "I know you have my unlucky half-sister. Here's what's going to happen: You bring Aria to Pier 47 at midnight. Alone. No guns, no backup, no tricks. You hand her over, and I let the nurse go." Her smile widened. "Or you refuse, and I put a bullet in this woman's head and send you the video. Your pick. You have six hours."
The video finished.
Marco appeared at my shoulder. "It's a setup. The moment you show up, they'll kill all three of you."
"I know."
"So what do we do?"
I looked at the frozen picture of Isabella's cruel smile. Then I thought about Aria in that bedroom, waiting to hear if I'd save her friend.
And I realized something that changed everything.
I wasn't just doing this for payback anymore.
I was doing it because somewhere along the way, Aria had made me want to be the man Sofia thought I could be.
"We're going to Pier 47," I said quietly. "But not the way Isabella expects. Get me everyone we have. Every resource, every link, every favor owed. Because we're not just saving Elena Russo tonight."
"What else are we doing?"
I smiled, and it wasn't my devil's smile. It was something colder. More dangerous.
"We're declaring war on Isabella Morelli. And by sunrise, she's going to wish she'd never heard the name Aria."