THE DEVIL HUNTS

The city didn't sleep that night.

It trembled.

Black cars swarmed the roads like shadows. No sirens. No flashing lights. Just silence and speed. The underworld whispered of a storm. Those who owed Dante Harlan anything vanished. The ones who knew better stayed hidden.

But Dante?

He didn't speak. He didn't blink.

He moved.

In the backseat of a sleek black SUV, screens flickered to life—surveillance feeds, license scans, street footage. A silent army worked behind the scenes.

Dante sat like stone, jaw clenched, eyes locked on one screen.

Ethan's voice played back again.

"Dante...? I—I'm scared..."

Static.

Then silence.

His knuckles whitened around the phone.

"Status," he snapped.

"We tracked Avery's car until 9th and Thorn," his tech chief said through the speaker. "Then it vanished. Likely an underground route. Tunnel systems."

"Send me coordinates."

"Already did. We have movement down there. Armed. Hostile."

Dante's eyes narrowed. "Mobilize teams from the north. I go in from the front."

---

Underground – Unknown Location

Avery's body ached.

Concrete beneath her. Rust in the air. Her hands tied. Her mind spinning.

Beside her, Ethan whimpered softly, still groggy, tears streaking down his cheek.

"Avery?"

"I'm here," she whispered, forcing calm. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

But her promise felt like smoke in her mouth.

The walls dripped with silence. The kind before pain.

Then—

Boom.

The far door exploded inward.

Gunfire.

Screams.

A blur moved through the tunnel. Black coat. Blood-slick fists. Eyes like death.

Dante.

He didn't hesitate. One man lunged—

Avery looked up from where she sat, her wrists tied to the arms of a chair. Her lip was bruised, her hair tangled, but her eyes widened with something like hope.

Ethan sat beside her—tired, pale, his hands bound in front of him. He stilled at the sight of Dante, blinking as if he wasn't sure it was real.

"Dante…" Avery whispered.

His gaze swept the room. Controlled. Cold.

Two men stood near the wall. One flinched the moment Dante's eyes landed on him.

No words were exchanged.

Dante crossed the space between them, calm and sure. The first man took a step back, hesitating.

"Don't," Dante said quietly.

Something in his tone made the man freeze. No shouting. No threats.

Just quiet certainty that he was done.

The other tried to move, but Dante caught his shoulder and shoved him gently—firmly—aside.

"I'm not here for you," Dante muttered. "But test me, and I'll make time."

He turned his back on both of them—without fear—because his focus was already on her.

Avery.

He knelt beside her, pulled out a blade from his coat, and carefully cut through the ropes around her wrists.

Her skin burned with relief as the restraints loosened.

"You came," she murmured, breathless.

"I said I would," he answered simply, helping her up with one hand braced under her elbow.

Then he turned to Ethan. The boy had barely moved, staring at Dante like he couldn't believe he was real.

Dante knelt again and untied him with steady fingers.

"You alright?" he asked.

Ethan nodded slowly. "I… I think so."

Without hesitation, the boy leaned into him.

Dante stiffened for a moment—then rested a hand on Ethan's shoulder, quiet and firm.

"You're safe now."

He stood, guiding them both toward the door.

Behind them, one of the men started to speak—maybe an excuse, maybe an apology.

Dante didn't turn.

He just said, low and final, "Walk away. And don't make me remember your face."

The man obeyed.

Dante didn't need to threaten anyone.

Not when his silence said everything.

He led Avery and Ethan out of the room—out of that dim, ugly place and into the pale morning light waiting beyond the door.

It wasn't over.

But they were safe.

And for now, that was enough.

—

The ride back was silent.

Dante drove.

Avery sat in the back with Ethan curled against her side, one of his hands gripping hers tightly, the other clutching the edge of her sleeve like it anchored him to the present.

The mansion's gates opened slowly, as if the house itself sensed the storm behind the wheel.

Dante didn't speak as he pulled into the driveway. His jaw was locked. His eyes fixed ahead.

He parked. Got out.

Came around.

Opened the door for them without a word.

Avery stepped out slowly, her legs unsteady. Ethan followed, quieter than usual.

"Go inside," Dante said, his voice flat but not cold. "Straight to your room. Someone will bring you food."

Ethan hesitated. "What about—?"

"I'll check on you soon," Dante added, more gently.

The boy nodded. He looked up at Avery once, then let go of her hand and walked toward the house.

Dante watched him go.

Only when the door closed behind Ethan did he turn to her.

"You're limping."

"It's fine," she said. "It's just—sore."

"Come here."

She didn't argue.

He reached out, one arm carefully winding around her waist. His other hand slid under her knees.

She blinked. "Dante, I can walk—"

"Not tonight."

He lifted her easily and carried her up the steps. She didn't fight him this time. She just rested her head lightly against his shoulder, the tension finally beginning to leave her body.

Inside, the hallway was dim and quiet.

He didn't take her to her room.

He took her to his.

The door opened with a quiet click. The scent of dark wood and clean sheets met her like something familiar, something strangely safe.

He set her down on the edge of the bed.

"I'll get the first aid kit."

She watched him go.

When he returned, he knelt in front of her and opened the box. Gently, he reached for her face. His fingers brushed her cheek, near the bruise. She flinched—but not from fear.

He paused.

"Did they…" His voice drifted off. But she knew what he meant.

"No," she said softly. "They just wanted to scare me. I think… hurting Ethan would've gotten more attention."

His jaw tightened.

She touched his hand. "But you came."

He looked at her then.

For the first time since the rescue, really looked.

"You didn't doubt that?"

She smiled faintly. "Not for a second."

That surprised him more than anything.

He cleaned her cuts quietly. Dabbed ointment on her wrists. Worked slowly, methodically.

"You shouldn't have gone out alone."

"You shouldn't have let me feel like a prisoner," she said softly.

They were both quiet after that.

The bandages were done. The bruises would take time. But the silence between them was no longer cold.

"Ethan needs you," she said gently. "Even if you pretend not to care."

"I care," he said without hesitation. Then, quieter, "That's the problem."

She looked at him for a long time.

Then stood.

"You don't have to protect us alone, Dante."

His expression didn't change. But something in his eyes shifted.

She started toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To check on Ethan."

She paused. Looked back.

"You can come too. Or you can pretend you don't want to."

She left him with that choice.

And this time… he followed.