Page 88 of Blood Vows

“I’m still hurt,” she insisted.

“I know,” he said.

“I don’t forgive you,” she spat.

His jaw tightened. “I know.”

She stepped between his knees. “But I don’t hate you.” Dante stopped breathing, and Elena touched his face. His eyes closed, and he leaned into her touch.

“You should hate me,” he insisted.

“Probably,” she said with a shrug. He opened his eyes, and she gave him a watery smile. “But I’m starting to realize I make terrible decisions where you’re concerned.” His hands settled carefully on her hips. He didn’t pull her into his body. He was just touching her like he was afraid she might change her mind.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

“No,” she breathed. Dante stood and rested his forehead against hers, and for one moment, the vault disappeared. The murder, the betrayal, the money—everything disappeared. Elena remembered the flash drive, and she pulled back. “There’s more.”

Dante groaned. “Of course there is.”

She picked up the drive. “He left documents behind, too.” They spread them across the table—corporate agreements, account numbers, property deeds, and names. There were dozens of names. Then Dante found one page that made him go still.

“Elena,” he breathed.

“What?” He turned it toward her and pointed to a list of four original family names. Beneath them, most of the names had been crossed out. Some were marked as deceased and others released, but one remained untouched.

Elena Romano — Bond Holder.

Beside it was another line.

Upon termination of bond, controlling interest transfers to Vincenzo Hale.

Elena’s blood ran cold. “Termination?” Dante’s face turned lethal. He didn’t need to explain. If Elena died, Hale got everything—Crimson Holdings, the empire, and eighty million dollars and whatever else they hadn’t found. Suddenly every attack made sense. Hale didn’t want Elena to cooperate—he wanted her dead.

Dante reached for her, and this time, Elena went willingly. He pulled her against his chest. His voice was cold enough to freeze blood. “Now we know why he wants you.”

Elena closed her eyes. “And what he plans to do to me tomorrow.”

“No.” She looked up at him. Dante’s expression was terrifying. “Nothing happens to you tomorrow.”

“How can you promise that?” she asked.

His arm tightened around her. “Because Hale just made his first real mistake.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“He gave me a name.” Elena stared at him, and Dante’s eyes went dark—not with fear, but with purpose. Vincenzo Hale had spent twenty-seven years building a trap around Elena Romano, but he had made the mistake of putting Dante Vitale inside it. And Elena was starting to understand something about Dante. He didn’t run from traps; he burned them down.

Dante

Dante had spent years believing the cleanest way to end a problem was with a bullet. Find the threat, remove it, and move on. Vincenzo Hale had changed that. A bullet was too easy, and too fast for him. Not because Dante wanted revenge, because he did, but because killing Hale without destroying everything he had built would leave the Crimson Empire exposed, Elena vulnerable, and twenty-seven years of lies buried where someone else could eventually dig them up. Hale didn’t just need to die; he needed to lose first—everything.

Dante stood beside Elena in the private vault room, staring at the documents spread across the steel table. There it was—the reason for all of it.

Upon termination of bond, controlling interest transfers to Vincenzo Hale.

Dante read the sentence again, and his jaw clenched. The word termination had him seeing red. What a nice word for murder. Elena stood beside him, unnaturally quiet. He hated her silence now. He had learned her moods quickly. Anger came with sharp words. Fear made her stubborn. Frustration made her sarcastic. Silence meant she was overwhelmed.

Dante gathered the documents. “We’re done.”