The alarm screamed through the penthouse.
Red lights flashed across the walls like warning beacons, turning the elegant apartment into something that felt more like a war zone.
Elena's heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Gunshots echoed again from somewhere below.
Dante's grip tightened slightly around her wrist.
"Stay behind me," he said quietly.
"I am behind you!" she whispered urgently.
But he was already moving.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Like a man who had done this a thousand times before.
He walked toward a hidden panel near the wall and pressed his thumb against it.
The panel slid open silently.
Inside were weapons.
Not just one or two.
An entire arsenal.
Elena stared.
"You keep guns in your living room?"
"Welcome to my life," Dante replied calmly.
He grabbed a handgun and checked the magazine with practiced ease.
Then he turned toward her.
"Come here."
She hesitated.
"I don't know how to use one of those."
"I'm not giving it to you to shoot."
"Then why—"
"To hold."
He placed the small gun in her trembling hands.
"If something happens to me—"
Her eyes widened.
"No."
"Elena."
"No!" she snapped. "You're not dying tonight."
For a moment he looked surprised.
Then something softer flickered in his eyes.
"Good," he said. "I like the confidence."
Another gunshot echoed.
Closer this time.
One of Dante's security men shouted somewhere downstairs.
Dante moved toward the elevator entrance.
"You're staying here," he said.
"What?!"
"This floor is reinforced. They won't reach it easily."
"You expect me to just wait while people try to kill you?"
"Yes."
"Absolutely not!"
He turned toward her.
His eyes darkened.
"Elena."
Her breath caught.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"I… don't know."
"Then trust that I will come back."
Before she could respond, he stepped into the elevator.
The doors slid shut.
Leaving her alone.
Silence fell over the penthouse.
Except for the distant sounds of chaos.
Shouting.
Footsteps.
Gunfire.
Elena's hands shook as she held the gun.
She paced the living room.
"Stay here," she muttered. "Easy for him to say."
Another loud crash echoed from somewhere in the building.
Too close.
Her stomach twisted.
What if Dante didn't make it back?
The thought sent a strange wave of panic through her chest.
She barely knew him.
But the idea of losing him suddenly felt… wrong.
Very wrong.
Then the elevator dinged.
Her head snapped up.
Her pulse spiked.
The doors opened slowly.
A man stepped out.
But it wasn't Dante.
Elena froze.
The man smiled coldly.
"Well," he said, raising his gun.
"Looks like we found the witness."