Blood always smells the same.
Metallic. Thick. Impossible to ignore.
It doesn't matter where you are—war zones, back alleys, or marble-floored mansions dripping in wealth. When it spills, it stains everything the same.
I learned that a long time ago.
And right now, as the scent filled my lungs, I knew one thing—
Someone had made a mistake.
---
The world snapped back into focus.
Pain came first. A sharp pulse at the side of my head, dragging me out of the dark.
Then sound.
Shouting. Footsteps. Distant gunfire.
And her voice.
"Dante—"
I moved before I fully registered it, instincts taking over. My hand shot out, grabbing the wrist of the man standing over me just as he prepared to fire again.
Surprise flickered across his face.
Too slow.
I twisted hard.
Bone cracked.
He screamed.
The gun slipped from his grip, clattering across the floor. I shoved him back and surged to my feet despite the dizziness threatening to pull me under again.
Focus.
Move.
Kill.
The traitor lunged, desperation in his eyes. I didn't hesitate. One strike to the throat, another to the chest—he went down, choking, gasping… finished.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Violent.
Then—
"Dante."
Her voice again.
Closer this time.
I turned.
Valentina stood a few feet away, breathing hard but steady, her dark eyes locked on me. Not wide with fear. Not shaking.
Alert.
Alive.
Good.
A thin line of blood traced her arm where glass must have caught her. Her dress—still that dangerous red—was now darker in places, stained.
But she didn't look broken.
She looked furious.
"They got inside," she said, voice tight. "How?"
"Someone opened the door for them," I replied, grabbing the fallen gun and checking the chamber.
Loaded.
Of course.
Her jaw clenched. "I trusted them."
"Don't."
She stilled.
Just for a second.
Then her chin lifted slightly, like she refused to let the words settle.
"Noted," she said coolly.
Gunfire cracked again down the hall.
Closer now.
We didn't have time for pride.
"Can you move?" I asked.
She gave me a look—sharp, unimpressed. "I'm not the one who just got shot."
"Grazed," I corrected, ignoring the way my head throbbed. "And I'm still standing."
"Barely."
A corner of my mouth twitched despite the situation.
She noticed.
And for a split second, something changed in her expression.
Not softness.
Not quite.
But something less guarded.
Then it was gone.
"Come on," I said, grabbing her wrist before she could argue. "We need to get you out."
She didn't pull away this time.
---
The corridor was chaos.
Guards scrambling. Some shouting orders. Others already down.
Too many down.
This wasn't just an attack.
It was a setup.
"They knew the layout," she said quietly as we moved. "Security routes, blind spots… everything."
"Yeah," I muttered. "Which means your problem isn't just outside."
Her gaze darkened.
"Say it."
"You've got a traitor inside your father's empire."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"I figured that part out."
Another burst of gunfire.
Closer.
I pushed her behind me, raising the weapon as shadows moved at the end of the hall.
Two figures.
Armed.
Advancing.
"Stay behind me," I said.
"I don't take orders."
"Today you do."
Before she could argue, I stepped forward and fired.
One shot.
Clean.
The first man dropped instantly.
The second ducked, returning fire. Bullets slammed into the walls, sending debris flying.
Valentina didn't scream.
Didn't panic.
Instead, she moved.
Fast.
Before I could stop her, she grabbed a fallen guard's gun and took aim.
Two shots.
Precise.
The second attacker went down.
Silence.
Again.
I turned slowly, eyes narrowing.
"You've done that before."
She lowered the gun, meeting my gaze without hesitation. "You think I grew up in this world and never learned how to survive?"
Fair point.
Still…
"You didn't hesitate."
"Neither did you."
We stared at each other for a moment, something unspoken passing between us.
Recognition.
Understanding.
Danger.
Then—
A loud explosion rocked the building.
The ground shook beneath our feet. Lights flickered.
Valentina stumbled slightly. I caught her without thinking, my hand tightening around her waist.
Too close.
Way too close.
Her breath hitched.
So did mine.
For a second, everything else faded—the noise, the chaos, the blood.
Just her.
Her eyes.
Her lips.
The way she looked at me like she was trying to figure me out… and failing.
"Don't get distracted," she said softly.
But she didn't move away.
Neither did I.
Big mistake.
Another gunshot snapped us back to reality.
I released her immediately, stepping back.
"Right," I muttered. "Focus."
Her expression shifted again—guarded, controlled.
Like the moment never happened.
"Follow me," she said suddenly, turning down a side corridor.
I frowned. "Where are you going?"
"Safe room."
I grabbed her arm, stopping her.
"Too obvious."
Her eyes flashed. "It's secure."
"It's predictable."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"…You think they'll be waiting."
"I know they will."
She studied me for a long second.
Weighing.
Deciding.
Then she nodded once.
"Fine. Your move, bodyguard."
I almost smirked.
Almost.
"This way."
---
We took a different route—narrower halls, less obvious paths. Servant corridors. Maintenance access.
Hidden ways most wouldn't think to check.
But I did.
Because I'd been on the other side of this before.
Hunting.
Not protecting.
"Where did you learn this?" she asked quietly as we moved.
"Same place you learned to shoot."
She didn't press further.
Good.
Some things didn't need explaining.
Footsteps echoed behind us.
Fast.
Too fast.
"They're tracking us," she whispered.
"Yeah."
Which meant—
"They know the house better than they should," she finished.
"Or someone's feeding them information in real time."
Her expression hardened.
"If I find out who—"
"You will," I cut in. "But not if you're dead."
She didn't argue.
Another first.
We turned a corner—
And stopped.
Three men blocked the exit.
Armed.
Waiting.
Damn.
"End of the line," one of them said with a grin.
Valentina stepped slightly in front of me.
Bold.
Reckless.
Stupid.
I pulled her back instantly.
"Stay behind me," I said.
"This is my house."
"And those are bullets."
She hesitated.
Then stepped back.
Smart choice.
For once.
I raised the gun.
Three against one.
Not great odds.
But I'd had worse.
"On my mark," I murmured.
She nodded, gripping her weapon tighter.
"Three… two—"
Gunfire erupted before I hit one.
We moved at the same time.
Shots rang out.
Bodies dropped.
Pain exploded in my side—but I ignored it, pushing forward, taking down the last attacker with brutal efficiency.
Silence fell again.
Heavy.
Breathing hard, I turned—
And froze.
Valentina stood there, staring at me.
Not at the blood.
Not at the bodies.
At me.
"You're insane," she said quietly.
"Yeah," I replied. "Probably."
A strange look crossed her face.
Not fear.
Not disgust.
Something else.
Something deeper.
More dangerous.
"I think…" she said slowly, "you might actually survive this."
I met her gaze.
"Not 'might.'"
A faint smile touched her lips.
And for the first time—
It wasn't sharp.
It wasn't mocking.
It was real.
And it hit harder than any bullet.
Then—
A slow clap echoed from behind us.
We both turned.
A man stepped out of the shadows.
Well-dressed.
Calm.
Smiling.
Too calm.
Valentina's entire body went rigid.
"No…" she whispered.
I glanced at her.
"You know him?"
Her voice dropped, barely audible.
"…He's supposed to be dead."
The man's smile widened.
"Surprise, princess."
My grip tightened on the gun.
Something about this just escalated.
Fast.
"Drop the weapons," he said casually. "Or the next shot won't miss."
I stepped slightly in front of her.
Instinct.
Protection.
She didn't protest.
Also new.
"Who are you?" I asked.
His eyes shifted to me, amused.
"The man," he said, "who's about to take her away from you."
Tension snapped tight.
Deadly.
Final.
And then—
He pulled the trigger.