A Brutal Battle

Chapter 37: A Brutal Battle

The tension in the warehouse was suffocating. Isla's heart pounded as Matteo's men positioned themselves near the entrance, weapons drawn. The distant sound of footsteps echoed through the metal walls, growing louder with each passing second. He was here.

Dante.

Even bound to the chair, Isla felt an undeniable pull toward him. She had betrayed him, planned his downfall, yet he had come for her. He always did. But this time, it wasn't love that would greet him—it was war.

Matteo smirked, his fingers lightly tapping the handle of his pistol. "Dante always had a weakness for what's his," he murmured. "Let's see how much blood he's willing to spill for you, Bella."

The doors burst open before anyone could react.

Gunfire exploded through the air, deafening, chaotic. Dante moved like a phantom, his coat billowing as he took down the first man in his path with a swift shot between the eyes. Another charged at him, but Dante ducked, twisted his body, and buried a knife deep into the man's throat. Blood sprayed across the warehouse floor.

"Kill him!" Matteo roared.

The room erupted into violence.

Isla struggled against her restraints as bullets whizzed past her. Luca, still on his knees, kicked one of Matteo's guards hard in the shin, knocking him off balance before using the moment to ram his head forward, breaking the man's nose.

Dante didn't hesitate. He grabbed a fallen gun, tossing it to Luca.

"Cover me," Dante growled.

Luca barely had time to react before another shot rang out. Isla's breath hitched as Dante twisted, narrowly avoiding a bullet aimed at his chest. He retaliated with brutal efficiency, firing back without mercy.

Matteo's men were dropping like flies.

But Matteo—Matteo was waiting.

He stood near Isla, one arm draped over the back of her chair, his pistol pressed lightly to her temple.

Dante's gaze darkened when he saw them. His jaw clenched, his muscles coiled with unrestrained rage. "Let. Her. Go."

Matteo chuckled, as if amused. "Why should I?" He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against Isla's ear. "She's been such a delightful pawn in my game, Dante. Did you really think you could keep her?"

Dante's grip tightened on his gun. "Touch her again, and I'll tear you apart."

Matteo's smirk never faded. "Then put your gun down."

Isla's stomach twisted. No. He couldn't. She shook her head slightly, trying to warn Dante without speaking.

But Dante—Dante didn't do well with orders.

A gunshot rang out.

Matteo stumbled back, clutching his hand where blood gushed from a fresh wound. His gun clattered to the floor. Isla didn't waste a second—she used the distraction to kick her chair backward, knocking them both over.

Dante was on him in an instant.

He didn't fire.

No, this was personal.

With a feral growl, Dante grabbed Matteo by the collar and slammed his fist into his face. The first punch split Matteo's lip. The second sent blood splattering onto the concrete floor.

Matteo coughed, spitting out a tooth.

"You always did let your emotions cloud your judgment," Matteo sneered, despite the blood dripping from his mouth.

Dante didn't respond with words. He responded with another punch.

And another.

And another.

Isla barely registered the remaining gunfire in the background as Luca finished off the last of Matteo's men.

Matteo's face was barely recognizable now, swollen and bloodied, but Dante wasn't done. He grabbed Matteo by the throat, squeezing hard enough that Isla saw the panic flicker in Matteo's eyes for the first time.

"You tried to take everything from me," Dante growled. "My empire. My blood. Her." His grip tightened. "I should kill you right now."

Matteo wheezed, clawing at Dante's wrist. "Then do it."

Dante hesitated.

That single moment of restraint was all Matteo needed.

With one last desperate effort, he yanked a hidden knife from his boot and slashed upward.

Dante barely dodged in time, but the blade still nicked his side, slicing through his shirt. Blood bloomed through the fabric.

Dante's patience snapped.

With a brutal roar, he twisted Matteo's arm, forcing the knife from his grip, then grabbed the same blade and drove it straight into Matteo's stomach.

Matteo gasped, eyes widening in shock. Blood seeped between Dante's fingers.

"You don't deserve a quick death," Dante whispered darkly.

He twisted the knife.

Matteo let out a strangled, gurgling sound before slumping forward.

Dante shoved him off, breathing heavily as he stood over Matteo's body. Blood coated his hands, his clothes, but his gaze snapped toward Isla.

She was still bound, watching him with wide eyes.

Luca, sensing the tension, took a step back. "I'll give you two a moment."

Dante strode toward her, his expression unreadable. He crouched down, grabbed the cuffs, and snapped them open. The second her wrists were free, she rubbed at the sore spots, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded.

Dante didn't move away.

His knuckles were bruised, his breathing still rough.

He had risked everything for her. Even after knowing what she had done.

"Dante…"

His hand shot out, gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Tell me the truth, Isla." His voice was raw, dangerous. "Did you plan this? Did you plan to betray me again?"

Her throat dried.

She had. She had gone to Nico. She had agreed to bring Dante down. But now… now everything was different.

"I…" She swallowed. "I don't know anymore."

Dante's eyes flashed.

Without another word, he yanked her forward, crashing his lips against hers in a bruising, possessive kiss. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. It was fire and rage and desperation, all poured into one moment.

She melted against him, her body betraying her mind.

Because no matter how much she tried to fight it, Dante DeLuca owned her.

And he always would.

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