DANTE
Her weight rests light against me, far too light for what it should be. I can’t help but run my gaze over her skin, still marked where extensive wounds have only just begun the healing process. Even unconscious she feels breakable, and I find myself oddly relieved that the sedative dragged her under so completely. If she woke to feel her bones realigning, I’m sure every breath would be a fight to not scream in pain.
I adjust my grip, her head tipping faintly against my shoulder, causing her warm breath to stir at the side of my neck. The rise and fall of her chest is shallow but steady, and I fix my eyes on it longer than I should.
The sedative mist will continue in her cell throughout the night. I’ll see to it. A small mercy, perhaps, but it’s the only one I can give her. My father would prefer the other option, the one he called efficient in the case of her deciding to become a ‘handful.’
The thought drags a chill up the back of my neck, and I shut it out before the memories of the first time I laid eyes on her can follow.
My grip tightens imperceptibly. I may not be able to stop what my father does, but this is a small reprieve I can giveher. While my cousins are her day shift guards, I’m in charge of overseeing her overall care, be it in ordering blood bags or approving the use of the sedative mist.
Her cell comes into view and a small puff of air bursts from my nose.
I knew she would have an endearing quality to her, with how she won over Callum and Elias prior to them realizing what she is. What I wasn’t prepared for was the radiating strength and unwavering love for her family that poured from her throughout that session.
My lips twitch as I recall the line that I knew truly set my father off the deep end.You know nothing about family if you think anything you do will make me give mine up.
I set her down gently, the floor greeting her with a cold, sterile kiss, and for a moment I hesitate, seeing fresh blood at the corner of her mouth. I tried my best to clean her skin, a commodity I’ve never given another.
I force myself to leave the smear untouched. Any more, and my father will have questions about the special treatment.
My feet carry me out of her cell and I quickly press my thumb to the panel beside the frame. Mechanisms stir, smooth and precise. First the clear pane descends, then the heavier alloy barrier locks into place behind it, sealing her from view unless you’re in the surveillance room.
Callum and Elias fall into position at either side of the closed wall with arms crossed and jaws tight, trying to look the part. To someone untrained and inexperienced in this field, it might pass as discipline.
But I notice how Callum’s knuckles blanch where his fingers bite too deep into his own arms, and the muscle in his jaw ticks like it’s still remembering the sounds of her bones breaking. Elias stares straight ahead, rigid, but I catch the subtle shift ofweight in his stance. The restless adjustment of a man replaying mental images he’d rather bury.
They attempt to wear silence like armor, but I know the shape of silence when it’s stitched from fear. These two are rattled, no matter how tightly they hold their posture.
I know it, because I see it in the mirror often enough myself. They’ll have to learn to mask it better to survive this place, and learn to keep their mouths shut.
Elias’s voice still lingers in my skull.Let’s go, Dante. It was sharp and dismissive, like I was a dog being tugged by a leash. My jaw tightens. I take no pleasure in what must come next, but if they’re to last here, they need to understand the rules. Words have weight in these halls, and the wrong tone can draw blood. I have lived long enough beneath my father’s hand to know he welcomes a pecking order established through violence.
It’s how he knows who to call upon the most for his needs.
So I will remind them of the world they stepped into. Better they bristle at me now than bleed for him later.
My voice cuts through the silence, low and sharp as my gaze fixates on Elias. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.”
Elias’s head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing. I simply hold his gaze, letting him see the ice that lives in the marrow of me now. Years of being molded under my father’s hand. Years that have burned away every trace of softness that I used to show them.
I don’t need to raise my voice. Men like Elias hear the threat better in quiet bites.
He bristles under my stare, his shoulders stiffening beneath the black cotton of his shirt, arms crossing tighter and flexing his biceps. His boots squeak against the tile when he shifts his stance, restless, and itching for the retort that I know is on his tongue.
His pistol catches the light when his hand brushes it on the way down to rest at his sides, a reminder of the weapons that make boys think they are men in this world.
Beside him, Callum is still. His gaze flicks from me to his brother and back again, blue eyes sharp with concern. He’s always been the gentler one between them.
The silence sharpens as Elias’s chin tips up in defiance, a single sharp movement meant to look effortless, but I catch the tightness at the hinge of his jaw. My gaze catches the pulse at his throat hammering faster.
So far he’s doing good, keeping his mouth closed. But I know it only takes the right tone and words to set him off, which the other guys here will absolutely do.
I have to push him further.
“There’s only one person in this building who gets to tell melet’s go,” I murmur, voice even as I close the distance between us, using my height to glance down my nose at him. “And it sure as shit isn’t you, little cousin.”
His narrowed eyes spark with violence simmering in their dark blue depths. Exactly the kind of reaction that would see him gutted if anyone else chose to bait him.
