Chapter 5 Lessons in power

The next morning, I woke to the sound of knocking.

I sat up quickly, my heart still heavy from last night's attack.

"Come in," I said softly.

The door opened, and Dante stepped inside. He wasn't in a suit this time. Instead, he wore black jeans, a fitted shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, and his usual unreadable expression.

"Get dressed," he ordered. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

"Leaving? Where?" I asked.

He gave me a sharp look. "You want to survive in my world, don't you? Then you're going to learn how."

My stomach tightened.

"I'm not-I don't need to learn," I said quickly. "I'm not like you, Dante. I'm not... violent."

He stepped closer, his voice low and firm. "Violence doesn't care if you're ready or not. Last night could've ended differently. What if I hadn't been there?"

I swallowed hard, looking away.

His tone softened slightly. "I won't always be there to shoot first, little dove. So you need to learn how to protect yourself."

I hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.

"Good," he said. "Wear something comfortable. Nothing fancy."

Then he left, giving me no chance to argue.

Fifteen minutes later, I followed him outside. The mansion's backyard stretched into a private training area-fenced, with wooden targets and a table full of guns and knives.

My heart pounded as I stared at the weapons.

"I can't," I whispered, stepping back.

"You can," Dante said simply, placing a gun on the table. "And you will."

He picked up a sleek black pistol, holding it out to me.

I froze. "No."

His dark eyes locked on mine. "Isabella. Take it."

I shook my head, backing away.

In one swift move, Dante stepped forward, grabbed my hand, and placed the gun in my palm. His warm hand closed over mine, his grip firm but not painful.

"Feel it," he said softly. "It's not just a weapon. It's power. And power keeps you alive."

The cold metal sent chills down my spine. My hands shook so much I almost dropped it, but Dante's hands stayed on mine, steadying me.

"Relax your grip," he instructed, his voice calm now, almost soothing. "Good. Now aim at the target."

"I can't shoot someone," I whispered.

"You're not shooting someone. You're shooting a target," he corrected. "Focus."

He moved closer behind me, his chest brushing my back, his breath warm against my ear.

"Keep your arms steady," he murmured. His hands adjusted my stance, one on my waist, the other guiding my wrist.

My heart raced for reasons that had nothing to do with the gun.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now. "Now... pull the trigger."

I hesitated.

"Do it," he ordered, his tone deeper this time.

I took a shaky breath and squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot echoed across the yard, making me jump. The bullet hit the outer edge of the wooden target.

"Not bad," Dante said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Again."

For the next hour, he trained me.

Each time, he corrected my posture, his hands lingering on my waist, my arms, my shoulders. Every touch was firm but careful, sending strange sparks through me.

By the tenth shot, I hit the center of the target.

Dante stepped back, crossing his arms, watching me with that dark, unreadable expression.

"You're a fast learner," he said finally.

"I still hate this," I said, lowering the gun.

He walked closer, taking it from my hands. "Good. Hate it. That's what keeps you human. But never be weak enough to let someone use that against you."

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

"Why are you teaching me this?" I asked softly. "You could just... protect me yourself."

He stared at me for a long moment before answering.

"Because you're not a prisoner here, Isabella. You're my wife. And if you're going to survive as my wife, you need to be strong."

My chest tightened. There was something almost... honest in his voice.

Before I could respond, a guard ran toward us, panting.

"Boss!" he shouted. "We caught him. One of Rossi's spies. He was trying to slip out."

Dante's face hardened instantly.

"Where?"

"In the basement. He's tied up."

Dante's jaw tightened, his dark eyes burning with anger.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Come with me."

My stomach turned. "I don't want to-"

"You need to see this," he said firmly. "This is the world you live in now."

I wanted to refuse, but something in his tone made me follow.

The basement was cold and dimly lit. A man sat tied to a chair, his face bruised, his eyes wild with fear.

Dante stood in front of him, arms crossed, his expression calm but deadly.

"Who sent you?" Dante asked, his voice quiet, almost too calm.

The man spat blood, laughing weakly. "You'll be dead soon, Moretti. Rossi's coming for you."

Dante's smile was cold. "I've heard that before."

Then, without warning, Dante punched him once, hard. The man gasped, his head snapping to the side.

I flinched.

Dante turned slightly, glancing at me. "This is what happens when someone betrays me."

I swallowed, my heart racing.

The man coughed, blood dripping from his lip. "You think she's safe with you? Rossi will take her, and you won't be able to stop him."

At that, Dante's eyes darkened dangerously.

He grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him closer. "If he touches her, he dies. And so does everyone who works for him."

The man laughed again, even more weakly this time. "Too late."

Dante's grip tightened. "What do you mean?"

The man smiled, blood on his teeth. "Rossi already has someone inside your house."

My heart stopped.

Dante froze, his expression unreadable. Then he shoved the man back against the chair, turning to his men.

"Find him. Now."

The guards rushed out immediately.

Dante turned to me, his jaw tight. "Stay with me. Don't go anywhere, not for a second."

I nodded, my chest tight with fear.

Hours later, the mansion was on high alert. Guards searched every corner, every room.

I stayed close to Dante, who never left my side.

Then, suddenly, one of his men burst into the room, pale and sweating.

"Boss... we found him."

"Who?" Dante demanded.

The guard looked nervous. "It's Marco."

Dante's eyes went cold.

Marco. The guard who had always been kind to me, who had brought me tea the first morning I woke up here.

My stomach twisted.

Dante didn't hesitate. "Bring him to me."

A minute later, Marco was dragged in, his hands tied. His eyes darted to me, full of guilt.

"I didn't want to," Marco said quickly, looking at Dante. "Rossi threatened my family. He said he'd kill them if I didn't help."

Dante's jaw tightened, but his expression stayed cold.

"You betrayed me," Dante said simply.

Marco's voice shook. "Please... don't kill me. I had no choice."

Dante didn't answer.

"Dante," I said softly, stepping closer. "He was forced-"

Dante's gaze snapped to me, his eyes unreadable.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Don't ask me for mercy right now."

My chest tightened.

But I couldn't stop. "He has a family. You can't just-"

"I can," Dante said sharply. "Because if I don't, more men will think betrayal is forgiven. And then, you won't be safe."

I froze.

Then, without looking at me again, Dante gave his order.

"Take him to the basement."

Marco's pleading eyes met mine as they dragged him away.

When we were alone, I turned to Dante, my chest heavy.

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" I whispered.

Dante looked at me, his face calm, his tone low.

"I protect what's mine, Isabella. Even if it means getting blood on my hands."

My throat tightened.

"What if I hate you for it?" I asked.

He stepped closer, his eyes locking with mine, his voice soft but dangerous.

"Then hate me," he murmured. "But you'll still be mine."

My heart pounded as he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, shaking.

Because for the first time, I realized something terrifying-

I was starting to care about him.