Mafia Last Surrender: A Heart Changed by Love

Chapter 7: An Unanticipated Relationship

The quiet that followed the gunfire was intolerable. The room looked like anarchy, broken glass and splintered wood reflecting the low light. Dante kept his eyes fix on the door, gun still poised and ready, his breath coming in brief bursts. Gunpowder smelled strongly, a sobering reminder of how near they had come to catastrophe.

Elena stood next him, her face white but set with will. Her hands shook from the surge of adrenaline coursed through her blood, but she looked at Dante without faltering. He saw not only rebellion but also trust, a trust that caused something in his chest to constrict uncomfortably for the first time.

Dante remarked, his voice low and anxious, "We have to move." Looking out the window, he sought for any indication that the battle had attracted unwelcome attention. Though the streets were shockingly silent, he knew better than to think the risk had passed.

Elena nodded, pushing away her anxiety. She was still getting used to the knowledge that she had repelled an invader just before. Though she could not let herself shatter now, the world she had voluntarily entered was more perilous than she had expected.

"Where do we go?" she inquired, her voice firm among the tumult.

Dante's eye softened momentarily, a brief glance gone as fast as it came. "There is yet another safehouse. more safe. We won't be off-target once more.

Surprising them both with the move, he grabbed for her hand. Designed to help her negotiate the labyrinth of escape routes, it was pragmatic; but, the warmth of her fingers remained longer than he had expected. Moving as one, they slid across the building's shadows and into the frigid night; the city all around them silently observed the storm forming under its surface.

Under an old, abandoned bakery long since shuttered, the new safehouse was more reinforced. An unexpected solace among the stress, the smell of flour and yeast stayed in the air. Dante secured the large door behind them, the mechanical click echoing around the space.

Elena settled on a battered wooden stool and watched Dante carefully check every window and door. The flickering light from one lamp highlights the harsh lines of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes by throwing lengthy shadows over his face.

She broke the stillness with a comprehensive comment.

He looked at her, one corner of his mouth rising in a smile that fell short of his eyes. "Thorough sustains our life."

Elena nodded, a little smile pulling at her lips in spite of the situation. "I'll have that in mind."

Content they were safe, Dante at last let himself relax. He sat down across from her, the room getting smaller as the weight of all left unspoken pressed in. Though it was weighty, the quiet between them was not unpleasant. It was the silence of two people tested and then released uncooked and exposed on the other side.

Elena replied at last, her voice kind but probing: "I don't get you." "You seem to be indifferent, as though this planet is all there is. Still, you do things like this.

Dante's eyes shuttered with something incomprehensible. And what, Elena, do you suppose this is?

She fixed his eye with uncompromising accuracy. "Something you are not used to."

He laughed, a sound equal in taste to bitter and joyful. As you say. I'm not used to caring what happens to someone outside this world.

"Why me??" She desired the answer even though the question escaped her before she could stop it.

Dante's countenance changed, the mask sliding enough to expose a trace of fragility. "Because you vary." Though you belong nowhere in this world, here you are, reckless and naive.

Elena swallowed, his words weight sinking in her stomach. She wanted to tell him she terrified every time she spent in his world and was not fearless. But she was unable. Actually, the worry had no bearing on anything. Standing up for what she thought in spite of a man like Dante Moretti meant more than anything.

And you? she asked, her voice almost audible above a whisper. "What, Dante, do you believe in?"

The question startled him; a flash of something primal passed across his face. He had spent so much time erecting barriers around himself that the concept of belief seemed alien, nearly dangerous. But her wide and relentless gaze begged for an answer he was not sure he could provide.

Finally, he added, the harshness in his voice softening, "I believe in survival." And in doing everything it takes to guard what is mine.

At his words, Elena's heart thumped, the weight of them laying between them like an unspoken promise. Before she could reply, the moment was broken by a loud, metallic smash from outside-a metallic collision across the little alley behind the bakery.

Dante got on his feet right away, revolver in hand, toward the window. The tension in his body coiled like a spring as he waved Elena back-off.

The silence broken by the far-off buzz of the metropolis stretched the seconds into minutes. Then footsteps. Methodically slow, deliberate, headed toward the door.

Dante's jaw locked, every muscle in his body tense. He looked at Elena, who had got up from her seat in spite of his warning, a determined glance in her eyes.

Before a voice came from the other side, the doorknob shook once then once more.

"Enzo is it." Allow me entrance.

Although Dante's hold on the rifle loosened a small portion, the tension stayed with him. He opened the door just enough to glimpse Enzo's face, his friend's fatigue reflecting his own.

Dante responded, "Get in," drawing the door open more broadly.

Enzo entered with a sad look. "We have a more general issue here. The DiGregorios are not only challenging your will, Dante. Their attack is scheduled as full-scale. They would like to grab everything.

Dante's eyes clouded as the words sank in weight. This was an overt threat to his control, power, and everything he had created, not only a power play.

"How long do we have??" he questioned, his voice chilly and deliberate.

Not long, Enzo answered, staring at Elena with a mix of concern and something else-awareness of the influence she had on Dante. "We have to start right now."

Dante nodded; his head was already whirling through preparations and backup. But Dante turned to Elena as Enzo retreated outdoors to coordinate with the guards; the truth of what was falling around them was here.

He added, the words harsh and reluctant, "You don't have to stay." "This is not your battle."

Elena came forward, her eyes sharp. Exactly, it is. I'm not going anywhere.

Dante experienced the weight of something different from power or survival for the first time in years. It was trust, unvarnished and true, pressing against the boundaries he had painstakingly created. And he knew, as they teetered on the verge of conflict, this surprising, relentless link would transform everything.

The evening outside was agitated; the city was breathing. Dante could sense it, the still before the storm, the expectation of violence. For now, though, in this snatched moment of peace, he let himself hope that perhaps, just maybe, there was something more worth fighting for.