THE RHYTHM OF THE RUTHLESS

The operative never even saw it coming.

Dante hit the concrete floor with brutal, calculated momentum, his massive frame colliding squarely with Vance’s gunman. The suppressed pistol went off with a dull puff, the bullet burying itself harmlessly into the damp tunnel wall.

What followed wasn't a fair fight; it was an execution.

Dante didn't bother with martial arts finesse or tactical holds. He moved with the savage, unbridled fury of a man who had just watched his home get bombed and his children nearly killed. His hands wrapped around the operative’s throat and vest, slamming the man’s head against the reinforced concrete pillar with a sickening crack that echoed down the stone corridor.

The gunman went limp instantly, slumping into a lifeless heap against the damp wall.

Dante stood over him, chest heaving, his white dress shirt completely ruined, streaked with soot, dust, and fresh blood. His knuckles were raw and split, dripping crimson onto the concrete floor. He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Sera standing ten feet away in the dim red glow of the emergency lights.

For a terrifying second, the monster in his eyes didn't recede. He looked feral, dangerous, completely unhinged.

Then his gaze dropped to the two infants sleeping peacefully against her chest.

The terrifying tension in his massive shoulders broke. He staggered forward, closing the distance between them, and fell heavily to one knee right in front of her.

"Are they hurt?" Dante rasped, his voice shredded raw. He reached out with trembling, blood-stained hands, hovering inches away from the babies as if afraid to contaminate them.

"They're fine," Sera breathed, her own legs finally turning to jelly from the adrenaline crash. "They're sleeping. I got them out before the charge went off."

Dante let out a long, ragged exhale that sounded like a sob trying to tear its way out of a stone wall. He pressed his forehead gently against Sera’s shoulder, right where Nico was resting, his heavy frame trembling with the residual shock of a man who had nearly lost everything twice in twenty-four hours.

"Marcus and the cleanup crew have the perimeter," Dante whispered against her skin, his breath hot and ragged. "Vance’s strike team is wiped out. No survivors."

"Dante..." Sera’s voice wavered. She looked down at him, her hands still cradling Leo against her hip. "This isn't going to stop, is it? As long as you're who you are, they're never going to stop coming."

Dante pulled back slowly, meeting her gaze. The blood and soot smeared across his face couldn't mask the terrifying, absolute resolve burning in his dark eyes.

"That's why you're going to help me build a wall they can never scale," he said softly, his thumb gently wiping a smudge of soot from her cheek. "Starting tonight, you and the boys aren't staying in this house as employees. You're staying as my family. And anyone who touches you answers to me."

Sera’s breath caught. Every rational alarm bell in her head was screaming at the top of its lungs, warning her that tying herself to a mob boss was a one-way ticket to an unmarked grave.

Yet, as she looked down at the sleeping twins and then back into the fierce, unyielding devotion in Dante’s eyes, she realized the truth.