He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back away. But there’s a subtle shift in him—as if a current of electricity zaps through his nerves, lighting him up from the inside out.
I feel Cane’s gaze on me as I slowly circle Dante, taking my time. I want to see if I missed anything—some detail hidden beneath the urgency of earlier. Silence blankets the room,broken only by faint sounds drifting in through the not-quite-closed windows.
I complete my circle, letting my gaze linger just long enough to take him in fully. He’s around six-foot-five, lean but coiled with muscle, every line of him radiating physical capability. But confidence—confidence is where he falters, and that’s the real problem. No matter how formidable he looks on the outside, if he can’t hold his ground when it matters—like he failed to do just thirty minutes ago—then all of this strength, all of this potential, is meaningless.
“Interesting,” I murmur, my fingers brushing toward his waistband as I lift the hem of his grimy shirt. Beneath it, a wall of rough, tanned abs stretches across him, a constellation of tiny scars scattered alongside one prominent mark near his heart. He shivers beneath my touch, goosebumps rippling across his skin, and I let the shirt slip back into place, locking my gaze with his and holding it there.
“Trying to scare the poor man off already?” Cane asks.
I don’t answer. Dante holds my stare, surprisingly steady for someone who radiates doubt.
“What do you want, Dante?” I ask, lifting a brow.
A muscle twitches under his eye as he tilts his head. “Is that a trick question?”
I take a slow step back. “An abandoned loner chasing vengeance,” I begin, keeping my eyes pinned on him. “A bored man who’s tried everything and still feels nothing. A desperate man clawing for purpose.”
My voice thins, curling into something quieter, sharper. “People don’t just stumble into this life. You don’t choose it unless something is truly broken. And not everyone survives what this job puts them through.”
I tilt my head, studying him like a puzzle missing half its pieces. “But the ones who do, they never go back. Ever. So tellme…” I let the words hang for a brief moment. “What makes you believe you’re worth it?”
Dante drags a hand over the back of his neck, every muscle taut, coiled like a spring ready to snap. He holds it together—for now—but I can’t stop myself from imagining what it would look like the moment he finally loses control. “I know you don’t trust me. But I?—”
“You failed the mission,” I snap. I can feel Cane bristling behind me, confusion radiating off him. Before he can even open his mouth, I pivot and lay it all out. “He blew his cover before we even got started. Stormed into my cell, yelling in English, then switching clumsily to Spanish. If it weren’t for me, we’d both be dead. It was stupid,” I say flatly. “And next time? You’ll probably lose control halfway through and get yourself killed.”
I narrow my eyes, locking onto his with deliberate precision. I’m hunting for the spark—the flicker of fury buried beneath that practiced calm. Because I mean every word I’ve thrown at him. But a part of me still wants to see if there’s fire behind the failure. If he’ll lunge, if he’ll try to strike me, if he’ll give me even the smallest excuse to snap his neck like a twig. Just like I did with the last man I trained.
Cane’s done this before—tossed someone under my nose and hoped for the best. Maybe he forgot how that ended.
The bastard never learns.
“?You’re always so harsh on everybody,” Cane cuts in, amusement curling at the edge of his voice like smoke. “Come on, Estella. He’s a good tech. Maybe you’ll even learn something from him.”
That familiar murderous heat spikes in my chest as I shoot him a look sharp enough to kill. He only shrugs.
“Did you not hear what I just said?”
“I heard you,” he says casually. “I’m just saying… maybe it’s notthatbig of a deal.”
A sharp jolt of betrayal cuts clean through my thoughts, fast and merciless. For a heartbeat, the urge to stomp my foot like some furious, wronged child strikes me—absurd, humiliating, painfully real. Disappointment simmers under my skin, bubbling up and fusing with anger until it thickens into something bitter, raw, and all-consuming.
Cane always has my back. I’m his favorite for a reason.
So why the fuck is he turning on me now?
“I’m not saying I was perfect?—”
“Is that it? You’re trying to be perfect now?” I demand sharply.
“There’s only one person perfect for this job,” Cane begins as he steps in, closing the distance with that quiet, unshakeable certainty he wears like a second skin. His hand settles on my shoulder, and despite everything simmering inside me, despite the feel of betrayal still burning hot beneath my ribs, I don’t pull away.
“That’syou,” he says softly. “And you’ve always been a solo bird, Estella. Nothing’s changing that. I’m just asking you to help. That’s all.”
The tension bleeds out of my body in slow, reluctant waves. I pull in a breath, lips parting to speak, when his phone cuts through the room with a sharp, insistent ring. He mutters a quick apology and slips away, disappearing down the hall, leaving us stranded in the sudden quiet.
I watch Cane until the hallway swallows him whole. The second he’s gone, my focus snaps back to Dante, and something in me ignites. Before I can trace the thought, before I can name the impulse, I’m already moving. I close the distance in a breath, my hands locking onto his shoulders. It isn’t hesitation that drives me forward—it’s instinct: pure, sharp, immediate, like a strike waiting for permission.
“Oh, thank God he left,” I breathe, whipping my head around just to confirm Cane is truly out of sight. Then, I seize Dante’s arms, fingers sinking into the heat and rough tension of muscle beneath his shirt. “You have to help me,” I whisper-shout, urgency cutting clean through my voice. “Please.”
