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I hesitate, torn between following his orders and staying with him.

I look back, my heart clenching at the sight of Dante silhouetted against the tunnel's darkness. His broad shoulders fill the narrow space as he crouches, weapon raised. Blood spatters his tactical gear, some his, some not.

I can't tear my eyes away.

This is Dante stripped bare. Not the polished, well-dressed crime lord or even the dominant lover, but the warrior beneath it all.

The man who would sacrifice everything to protect what's his.

His missing ring finger catches my attention as he reloads. That first sacrifice he made for me, cutting off his own flesh to send a message.

Now he's ready to give so much more.

A bullet grazes his shoulder, drawing blood. He doesn't flinch, doesn't hesitate. But I see the slight tremor in his hands, the way his breathing has grown labored. He's already taken hits I can't see, pushing through the pain to buy us time.

His eyes meet mine one final time, and in them I see everything we've left unspoken. Every promise, every possibility, every future we might never have.

"Francesca, GO!" he roars, the command shattering my flying thoughts.

With tears in my eyes, I run, following Marco and Antonio toward the fading daylight ahead. We burst from the tunnel into the maintenance shed, then out into the forest where the rest of the team waits with stretchers.

"Get him stabilized," Marco orders the medic as Antonio is transferred to a gurney. "We move as soon as Dante—"

More gunfire erupts from the tunnel. My heart stops.

"Dante!" I cry, turning back toward the entrance.

Before I can take a step, he emerges, backing out while continuing his rapid fire. Relief floods me, only to transform into horror as I see the dark stain spreading across his left shoulder.

"You're hit," I gasp, running to his side.

"Just a flesh wound," he dismisses, though his face has paled beneath his tan. "Is Antonio secured?"

"Yes, but you—"

"Later. Move!"

We race through the trees, the sound of pursuit growing fainter as we put distance between ourselves and the compound. By the time we reach the helicopter, darkness has fallen completely, providing cover for our escape.

The rotors spin to life as we load Antonio onto the aircraft. Medics work over him, attaching IVs, monitoring vitals, applying pressure to the worst of his wounds.

Dante collapses into a seat beside me, his breathing labored. I help him remove his vest, slowly peeling it away to reveal a gunshot wound that looks much worse than "flesh wound" implies.

"You need medical attention," I insist, pressing a dressing against the bleeding hole in his shoulder.

He grimaces but doesn't argue, allowing the medic to cut away his shirt and apply proper treatment. The bullet passed clean through, missing major arteries but causing significant blood loss.

As we lift off, flying away from the cursed castle and its horrors, Antonio stirs on his stretcher.

"Frannie," he mumbles, good eye opening to focus on me. "How... how did you find me?"

I take his hand, careful of the IV line. "The Volkovs sent the video. Do you remember it? They wanted to trade you for Nico."

His expression darkens and he nods. "Nico... approached me... months ago. Business deal... exclusive route through... Castellano shipping." He coughs, blood speckling his lips. "I refused... warned him... dangerous game."

Dante leans forward despite his injury. "What game, Antonio? What was Nico planning?"

My brother's gaze shifts between us. "Building his own network... using both families... called it 'independence'... but it was betrayal of everyone."