Dante didn't waste time.
By the time Sarah reached his penthouse, he already knew more than she wanted to hear.
The room was dark except for the city lights spilling across the glass. He stood by the window, phone in one hand, jaw tight.
She slammed the door behind her. "You told me to come. Now talk."
He didn't turn. "I told you to send the photo, not to storm my building."
"You think I'm waiting for permission from you now?" she shot back.
His eyes finally lifted to hers — sharp, controlled, too calm. "You should start."
Sarah crossed the room, tossing the printed photo onto the table between them. "Someone's watching me, Dante. Someone who knew about that night."
He picked up the image, studied it under the low light. "Vanessa sent it."
"I know that," she said. "But how did she get it?"
His silence answered before his words did.
"Someone on my side," he said quietly. "One of my men."
Her heartbeat spiked. "You mean your own people are betraying you?"
He slid the photo aside. "It happens when loyalty is bought with fear instead of faith."
"Maybe you should try trust," she said sharply.
He gave a dry laugh. "Trust gets people killed."
---
He turned back to the glass, the city burning gold beneath them.
Sarah stared at his reflection — tall, composed, terrifyingly still.
"Vanessa doesn't move without purpose," he said finally. "If she's reaching for me, it's not about you anymore."
"Of course it's about me," Sarah said. "It's always been about me. She's obsessed."
He looked at her then, his expression unreadable. "She's not obsessed. She's calculating."
Her stomach tightened. "What does that mean?"
"She's testing how much you matter to me."
---
The air thickened.
Sarah's pulse skipped. "And do I?"
Dante didn't blink. "Enough for her to be a threat."
The words landed between them like fire.
Sarah exhaled, trying to steady herself. "So what now? You threaten her? Make her disappear?"
"I'll handle her," he said simply.
"No."
That one word sliced through the air.
His brow arched. "No?"
"She's my sister," Sarah said. "Half-sister or not, this is my fight."
"You think she's still your sister?" His tone sharpened. "She sold you for a headline and a man who couldn't even keep his ring on."
Sarah's jaw tightened. "You don't get to decide who I cut out of my life."
"I'm not deciding," he said, stepping closer. "I'm warning."
---
She laughed once — bitter, shaking. "You think you scare me?"
"No," he murmured. "I think you underestimate her."
He picked up his glass, took a slow sip, eyes still on her.
"Vanessa's not acting alone," he continued. "Someone's feeding her everything — our meetings, our conversations, even your company details."
Sarah frowned. "Who would—"
"I'm already tracing it," he interrupted. "But until I know who it is, I want you to stay away from her."
"I can't just avoid her. We move in the same circles."
"Then change circles."
Her temper snapped. "You don't get to control where I go or who I see!"
His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "I get to keep you alive."
---
She froze.
It wasn't what he said. It was how he said it — not as a threat, but as a promise.
Her anger softened, but only for a moment. "You think everything's a war. Not everything has to be."
He studied her face — the defiance, the exhaustion, the fire that refused to go out.
"Everything is war," he said finally. "Some people just die pretending it isn't."
She turned away, pacing. "You're impossible."
"Careful," he murmured. "That almost sounded like affection."
Sarah glared. "Don't twist this. I'm not your—"
"My what?" he asked quietly.
Her words faltered.
He stepped closer. The scent of whiskey and danger filled the space between them.
"You keep fighting me like I'm the enemy," he said. "But I'm the only one standing between you and the people who want to destroy you."
She met his gaze, her breath uneven. "And if one of those people is you?"
For a heartbeat, something raw flickered behind his eyes. "Then at least you'll see me coming."
---
Silence stretched — charged, fragile.
Finally, she said, "You don't understand. I can't just stand by while Vanessa manipulates everything. She's already ruined one life. She won't ruin mine again."
He reached out, fingers brushing her chin until her eyes met his.
"I'm trying to stop that," he said. "But you're too angry to see it."
"I'm angry because you treat me like one of your soldiers."
"No," he said softly. "I treat you like the only one I can't replace."
Her heart stuttered.
The confession hung there — quiet, dangerous, almost tender.
But before she could respond, his tone hardened again. "Stay away from Vanessa, Sarah. She's baiting you."
"And if I don't?"
He looked at her — the man, not the mafia boss. Still cold. Still unyielding.
> "Then don't cry when she burns."
---
Sarah stepped back, shaking. "You're unbelievable."
"Realistic," he corrected.
"You think she's fire? You haven't met me."
Dante's smirk was slow, knowing. "I've met you. That's the problem."
She turned toward the door, fury and fear fighting in her chest. "I'm not hiding from her."
"I didn't ask you to hide," he said. "Just to survive."
But she was already gone, the echo of her heels cutting through the silence.
---
When the door shut, Dante's calm vanished.
He grabbed his phone, dialing fast.
"Luciano."
"Boss?"
"Check every man who's been near Vanessa Vale in the last month. I want names, locations, payments — everything."
"And if we find the leak?"
Dante's voice dropped to ice. "Then we silence him before Vanessa knows he's gone."
He ended the call and stared at the photo still lying on the table.
Her stepsister's smile — perfect.
Her shadow — poisonous.
He poured another drink, but his hands didn't shake.
> "You want to play with fire, Vanessa," he murmured. "Let's see how long you can stand the heat."
---
Hours later, Sarah sat in her car outside Vanessa's townhouse, watching the lights flicker inside.
She shouldn't be there.
She knew that.
But curiosity — and something darker — kept her still.
Her phone buzzed. A message.
> Dante: "Walk away now."
She typed back:
> Sarah: "Too late."
Then she stepped out of the car.
The night swallowed her whole.