Page 27 of His to Protect

It was probably for the best. Despite the way that Felix had bounced on Dante's cock, he was innocent. He was part of the civilian world, not meant to be with a man like Dante.

All Felix wanted was to put together a nice, normal, respectable life for him and his sister. Those weren't exactly things that went together with mafia life.

The sudden vibration of Dante's phone against his thigh snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, expecting another message from his boss demanding a status update.

Instead, it was Felix's name flashing on the screen. He quickly unlocked the phone and read the short message that appeared before him.

Traffickers have me and Luna. 1123 West Elm St. Save us.

Dante's pulse raced with a primal mix of fear and anger.

How dare those bastards lay a hand on what was his?

That was suddenly clear. He'd been trying to talk himself into letting Felix go -- but the instant that the kid was threatened, something unmistakable rose up inside Dante.

Felix washis.

"Boys!" Dante barked as he threw open the door of his car. "Change of plans! We've finally got those bastards."

"Shit, for real?" Romeo asked, startled.

"You got it, boss. We're on our way."

As the engine roared beneath him, Dante's mind raced with images of Felix, his dark hair tousled and eyes glazed over with desire as they had moved together, bodies intertwined in a dance of dominance and submission. He craved the feeling of Felix's body yielding beneath him, the way the younger man's eyes sparkled with a newfound hunger for pleasure.

It was intoxicating – and now, it fueled Dante's determination to protect both him and Luna at any cost.

Dante snarled under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter as the streetlights flickered past. His rage simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over and consume him – but he knew he had to remain in control, for Felix's sake.

Those sick fucks won't know what hit them.

Chapter twelve

Dante'sheartpoundedlikea jackhammer as he pulled up to the address that Felix had texted him. The tires of his black Cadillac screeched against the asphalt, echoing in the night air. His men followed suit, their cars stopping behind him in a perfectly synchronized maneuver.

The target was a dingy little bar, its neon sign flickering feebly in the darkness. It was the sort of hole-in-the-wall joint that riddled this side of the city, blending in perfectly among its peers.

"Damn," Dante muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching in anger. He couldn't believe that the traffickers had been hiding right under his nose, smack dab in the center of his turf. His blood boiled.

These bastards had no idea who they were messing with.

"Showtime, boys," Dante growled. In one fluid motion, he drew his gun from the holster at his hip, the cold steel firm in his hand.

"Stay sharp. And remember, they have civvies in there," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

If anything had happened to Felix or his baby sister, a whole lot of people were going to pay.

His men nodded, their faces set with grim determination as they moved silently into position, disappearing into the shadows of the surrounding alleyways. They didn't need to ask for orders: this was second nature to them. Matteo stood alongside him, and Romeo and Aurelio began to fan out, slipping down the alleyways to breech the joint from the back and side.

As Dante approached the entrance of the dingy bar, a dark sense of satisfaction began to creep over him. These assholes had made a grave mistake.

Tonight, he would make sure that none of them left this place alive.

Dante sent the door flying off its hinges, the splintered wood crashing to the floor beneath his boot. Time seemed to slow down as he stepped inside, his gun raised and ready for action.

Eight men inside. Not drinking. Not customers.

And as soon as Dante kicked the door down, they began reaching for their guns.

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