Chapter 2 The Ghost of Seraphina

The boy's trembling fingers curled around his own, tiny and warm completely opposite to the cold rage boiling inside him. Dante had never hesitated in his life until now. So Seraphina was alive! Dante thinking... The pendant was a proof of his son.

So why had she hidden him? Why had she vanished? And why the hell was their child being auctioned like a commodity?

Dante exhaled slowly, pushing his emotions aside not here, not now. He had won the bid but that didn't mean they would let him walk away freely.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Brent Caldwell shift, his lips curling in a smirk. Victor Radcliffe wasn't even hiding his disappointment. He was already whispering to someone, probably sending orders to intercept them outside. Dante turned to the auctioneer, I want the boy now. The auctioneer's polite smile didn't reach his eyes. Of course, Monsieur Moreau. But first...

Dante didn't let him finish, he pulled a checkbook from his coat, scrawled out extra 10 million to the initial bait so it would silence any complaints, and tore the paper clean off that should be enough. The auctioneer glanced at the amount his lips twitched with barely concealed amusement. Money is not the issue, Monsieur Moreau.

Dante's jaw tightened, then what is?

The auctioneer tilted his head. "The mother."

Silence fell between them. Dante's pulse thundered in his ears. The mother? he repeated, voice dangerously low.

The auctioneer tapped his fingers on the podium. Every child in our exclusive listings comes with... baggage. This boy was not meant to be sold alone. The mother was supposed to be part of the package.

Dante felt the ground shift beneath him.

Where is she?

The auctioneer's smile deepened. That, Monsieur Moreau, is the question of the night.

Dante's grip tightened around the child's hand. He glanced down, and for the first time, the boy was looking at him with something other than fear. Hope flickered in his blue eyes.

He's trusting me.

Dante turned back to the auctioneer. I don't give a damn about your policies, the boy is mine. A tense pause. Then the auctioneer sighed. Very well, he gestured toward the back doors. Take him and go but I'd be careful if I were you, Monsieur Moreau. A missing mother always leaves a trail of enemies.

Dante didn't wait for more warnings. He scooped the boy into his arms, feeling how light too light he was. The child stiffened at first, but after a heartbeat, he clung to Dante's jacket, his small fingers tightening around the fabric. Dante didn't question the unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

He walked through the back doors, his movements swift, calculated. Every instinct screamed at him to expect an ambush and he wasn't wrong.

The moment he stepped into the alley, a shadow moved. A knife glinted under the dim streetlights.

Dante turned just in time.

A man lunged at him.

Dante shifted, twisting his body to shield the boy. The blade missed his ribs by inches, slicing the fabric of his coat instead, Sloppy. The attacker had underestimated him.

Big mistake.

Dante struck fast, his fist colliding with the man's jaw. Bone crunched. The attacker staggered, but Dante didn't give him a chance to recover. He slammed the man into the nearest wall, twisting his wrist until the knife clattered to the ground.

Who sent you? Dante's voice was ice.

The man spat blood onto the pavement, laughing through his broken teeth. You think you've won, Moreau?

Dante pressed harder. "Where is Seraphina?"

The man's laughter stopped, his face darkened.

The mother was never meant to leave, he rasped. Dante's blood turned to ice.

The attacker smirked, but maybe you'll find her body before it rots.

Rage detonated inside him. He knocked the man out cold, his body slumping to the ground.

Dante exhaled sharply, forcing his emotions back under control. He had no proof yet Seraphina had to be alive.

He turned, his grip tightening around the boy. The child hadn't made a sound through the entire fight, but now, up close, Dante saw the way his little hands trembled.

Dante softened his grip. "What's your name?"

The boy hesitated. Then, in a small, barely audible voice "Leo."

Leo.

Dante forced his expression to remain neutral, even as something sharp and unfamiliar pierced his chest.

"Leo," he repeated, we're leaving.

He sighted his best friends car and carried Leo there, a sleek black Aston Martin parked just around the corner. His friend's driver, Andre, raised a questioning brow but said nothing as he opened the door.

Dante slid inside, keeping Leo close.

"Home," Dante ordered.

Andre nodded, the car smoothly pulling into the night.

As the city lights blurred past, Dante finally looked at the boy fully his son.

Leo was staring at his hands, still gripping the pendant. The one that had belonged to Seraphina.

Dante exhaled. "Leo."

The boy looked up.

Dante kept his voice steady. Tell me about your mother.

Leo's little fingers clutched the necklace tighter. His lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came out. Then....

They said she's dead.

The words were quiet and shattering.

Dante's gut twisted. No.

He leaned forward, leveling his gaze with the child's. Who told you that?

Leo swallowed, the bad men.

Dante's muscles locked and do you believe them?

A long pause... Then, finally, the boy shook his head.

"No."

Dante exhaled. Good.

She is alive,she has to be and if the people who had taken Leo thought they could keep Seraphina hidden from him?

They had no idea who they were dealing with.

Dante's jaw tightened. He would burn the world down to find her.

Leo's small hand curled into his coat.

Dante looked down. The boy's eyes were tired, drooping but before he fell asleep, he whispered one last thing "Will you find her?"

Dante didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

Leo's tiny body relaxed against him, trusting him completely.

And Dante?

For the first time in three years, he had a reason to destroy everyone who had ever crossed him.

He would find Seraphina and God help the people who had taken her.