Dante stops short of what he was doing and rushes right over to me, his hands coming up to grip my arms.
His fingers dig into my flesh as he backs me through the door and into the hallway, then slams the door shut behind us.
"What are you doing out here?" he growls, and he's angry, but I can see already as his expression actively shifts while he's yet speaking, that he's also relieved to see me as much as I am to see him.
I search his face.
There's blood on his hands but none on his body and a sob heaves its way up into my chest as I wrap my arms around him.
"I heard the SUV pull in. I wanted to make sure everyone was okay."
"Everyone's fine." He releases my arms and pulls me into his chest hard for a moment.
His heart is pounding so hard, I can hear every individual pulse beneath his ribs. "You should go back upstairs."
"Don't lie to me." I plant my feet, pulling back to look up at him. "There's blood on your hands, Dante. What happened?"
"It's none of your concern, Angelica," he growls, and he plants his hand firmly on my back as he guides me toward the back staircase.
"Like hell!" I dig in my feet and turn toward him, but he's acting selfish and self-righteous.
As if he's the only one in this family with any rights.
As if I should just obey like a good little girl, and after everything I've had to process to get to the point we're at right now.
He sighs hard and glances at the door.
"You want to know what's in there?" he asks quietly.
"Yes."
"One of my men is dead. Another's bleeding through a makeshift bandage. The doctor's on his way, but it's gonna be messy. And I have to tell one of my courier's wives he didn't make it."
He steps closer again and when he pulls me in this time, I feel the difference. He's weighed down by something.
"That's what's in there. And you don't need to see it."
The way he wraps his arms around me protectively and rests his chin on top of my head undoes me.
I've never seen him like this, and I'm not sure what to think about it.
"Was it the tunnel?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "Did I get something wrong?"
"No." His answer is immediate and firm. "The tunnel was perfect. They made it through without any trouble."
"Then what?—"
"Antonelli was waiting at the exit." His hands come up to grip my arms again and he looks me in the eye. "He had men positioned topside. They ambushed my crew when they surfaced."
I swallow hard. "How did he know?"
"I don't know yet." Dante's eyes bore into mine. "But it wasn't your fault. Do you understand me? This isn't on you."
"I'm sorry," I whisper because even though I believe him that it's not my fault, it's still not easy knowing he's lost someone.
And that outburst of anger was just his way of protecting me too, keeping me back from something that's dangerous the way you shout at a child who’s too close to the street—fear, and nothing more.
It makes me appreciate his gentler side a bit more.
