Shayla POV
"Absolutely not."
I crossed my arms, staring at the handwritten list Dante had just slid across the breakfast table. His handwriting was neat, organized—exactly like him. Everything about this man screamed control.
And I'd had enough people controlling my life.
"It's just structure, baby girl," Dante said calmly, sipping his coffee like he hadn't just handed me a prison sentence. "Nothing unreasonable."
"Bedtime at 9 PM?" I jabbed my finger at the paper. "I'm twenty-six years old, not six. And 'Daddy checks in every two hours'? That's stalking with extra steps."
"It's caregiving."
"It's insane." I pushed the list back. "We had a deal—you rescue Vanessa, I attend some fancy parties with you. Nobody said anything about you running my entire life."
Dante's jaw tightened slightly. The only sign I was getting to him.
Good. He needed to understand I wasn't some fragile doll he could stuff in a nursery and forget about. Last night I'd been terrified, overwhelmed, desperate. This morning I was clearheaded enough to see the trap I'd walked into.
Everyone who'd ever "helped" me had chains attached.
"The deal also included proper caregiving when you need it," Dante reminded me. His voice stayed gentle, but his eyes were steel. "Structure helps with anxiety. Dr. Chen's notes say—"
"You read my therapy notes?" My voice went sharp.
"Dr. Chen shared them with your permission. You signed the release last night."
Had I? Everything after the phone call about Vanessa was blurry. I'd been so scared, so little, I would've signed anything Dante put in front of me.
Stupid. So stupid, Shayla.
"I changed my mind." I stood up, the chair scraping loud against the marble floor. "About all of this. You can still get Vanessa back—you promised that anyway. But I'm not staying here playing house with a man I barely know."
I headed for the door. Dante's voice stopped me cold.
"You have forty-three cents in your bank account."
I froze.
"Marcus emptied everything two days ago," Dante continued, still seated, still calm. "Your apartment lease ended last month—he never renewed it, pocketed the money. Your car was repossessed yesterday. The wrestling federation suspended you pending investigation into the leaked video. You have no home, no money, no job, and half the internet thinks you're a joke."
Each word hit like a punch. True. All of it true.
"So what?" I turned back, lifting my chin. "You think that means I'll just roll over and let another man control me? I've been homeless before. I survived then, I'll survive now."
"I'm sure you will." Dante stood finally, walking toward me. Not threatening—just present, solid, steady. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Shayla. You don't need me to survive."
"Then why—"
"But you shouldn't have to just survive anymore." He stopped an arm's length away. "You deserve someone who fights for you instead of against you. Someone who sees you're tired and says 'rest' instead of demanding more. Someone who—"
His phone exploded with ringing.
Dante's entire body went rigid. He looked at the screen, and something terrible crossed his face.
"What?" I asked. "What's wrong?"
He answered, putting it on speaker. Lorenzo's voice came through, tight with panic.
"Boss, we've got a situation. Sofia's school just called—she's missing. Someone took her during recess. They left a note."
My heart stopped. Sofia. The little girl I'd saved two years ago. The reason Dante had protected me.
"What does it say?" Dante's voice was ice.
"'You have twelve hours. Bring Shayla Morrison to the warehouse on Fifth, alone. No weapons, no backup, or we kill the child. And if you're thinking about being a hero—we have three more kids from the school. Try anything, they all die. -Russo.'"
The room spun. This was my fault. They took that little girl because of me.
"He's escalating faster than expected," Lorenzo continued. "Antonio must've told him about Sofia's connection to Shayla. This isn't just about Vanessa anymore—"
"Get every man we have to that school," Dante ordered. "Find out how they got past security. Check the other children's families. And get me everything on that warehouse—blueprints, entry points, everything."
"Boss, it's a trap. You know it's a trap."
"I know." Dante's hand shook slightly as he ended the call. The first crack in his perfect control.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think past the horror. "I have to go. Right now. If they hurt her because I'm hiding here—"
"No." Dante grabbed my shoulders. "That's exactly what they want. You walk in there, you die. Then they kill Sofia anyway."
"You don't know that!"
"Yes, I do." His grip tightened. "Russo killed my wife to hurt me. He'll kill a six-year-old girl to destroy me. But not if I get there first."
"Then we both go—"
"No." His voice cracked slightly. "I can't lose you both. I won't."
The fear in his eyes was real. Raw. This man who faced down enemies without blinking was terrified.
And suddenly I understood: he'd already lost a family once. He couldn't survive losing another.
"Dante—" I started.
His phone buzzed. A video message. He opened it, and I wished he hadn't.
Sofia, tied to a chair in a dark room. Crying. A man's voice off-camera: "Twelve hours, Salvatore. Clock's ticking. Oh, and we found something interesting about your little wrestler."
The camera panned to another chair.
My sister Vanessa sat there, bruised and terrified. But that wasn't the worst part.
Behind her stood Derek—my ex-boyfriend. The one who'd leaked the video that destroyed my life.
And he was holding a gun to Vanessa's head.
"Shayla needs to choose," Derek's voice came through the phone, cold and satisfied. "Save the kid, or save her sister. She can't have both. And Dante?" He smiled at the camera. "If you come instead of her, we kill them both and mail you the pieces."
The video ended.
I stared at the blank screen, my mind screaming.
Twelve hours. One choice. Two lives.
And if I chose wrong, I'd have to live with it forever.