Stolen: Dante’s Vow

by Knight, Natasha

  Why did he bring me here? Back to this place where it all began. Why would he do that to me?

  A few minutes later, the plane touches down, the landing thankfully soft. I open my eyes to meet Dante’s ever watchful gaze. He’s broken too. It’s so obvious.

  The captain’s voice comes over the intercom as the plane slows to a stop. Matthaeus gets to his feet and stretches.

  I shift my attention to undoing my belt. Dante stands, reaches for our bags and slings one over his shoulder. The other he holds in one hand and gestures for me to go ahead of him.

  The attendant unlocks the door and it’s opened, the stairs lowered onto the tarmac. The sun is bright in the clear blue sky, the air crisp and in that moment before my brain can step in and remind me of my reality, in that one small stitch in time, I feel something I haven’t felt in a very, very long time. I feel it deep inside my belly.

  Excitement.

  A feeling of wanting to be out there. Wanting to take the steps that will lead me out under that sky, into that sunshine. Wanting to breathe in the air and exhale and just be.

  It’s the lightness of freedom.

  Of home.

  But my mind is quick to correct. And I clear my throat, take a step. I can see in my periphery that Dante saw it, though. Whatever that was must have played out on my face. Or he’s just so in tune with me. But that’s wishful thinking. I remember his rejection earlier. The hard no when I’d kissed him.

  Heat flushes my face at the memory. How stupid I am.

  I hurry after Matthaeus who exits first and watch him shake hands with the man standing beside the SUV that just came to a stop near the plane. They hug briefly before Matthaeus moves and the man turns his attention to the top of the stairs where I’m standing.

  My breath catches in my throat, the gasp audible.

  I hesitate, turn to find Dante at my back. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and I feel his warmth, his strength. His thumb rubs the hollow at my nape. He leans in close.

  “It’s okay. You know him.”

  I do.

  I turn to the man who is smiling. He’s trying to hide the worry in his deep blue eyes that the furrow between his brows gives away.

  It’s Cristiano. Dante’s older brother.

  “It’s okay, Mara,” Dante whispers again.

  I nod, take a deep breath, and fumble for the handrail. My hand is shaking. My legs too. But I take step after step, focusing on my feet, not on the man waiting.

  Dante stays close behind ready to catch me if my legs give out. When I step onto the tarmac, Cristiano walks toward me but is careful to keep distance. They’re all so careful with me. Like they’re scared to spook me. Don’t they know I can’t be any more spooked?

  I look up at him. See the warmth in his gaze. See the gray at his temples. The lines around his eyes. The boy is gone. Again. Just like Dante. Cristiano is a man. A stranger to me.

  “Mara.” He glances over my shoulder to Dante and when I follow his gaze, I see Dante give a small shake of his head. Cristiano steps back giving me more space, room to breathe. “Welcome home.”

  He’s as tall as Dante. Built the same. He doesn’t have the damage to his face that Dante has though. When the brothers hug and I see them together, I remember something. Laughter. Warmth. A happy family.

  They both turn to look at me again, Cristiano cautiously smiling, Dante watching. Always watching. He doesn’t even try to hide the intensity of his gaze or the darkness of his thoughts.

  “Your grandmother, Scarlett, and even Noah are anxious to see you, Mara,” Cristiano says. I think he’s trying to make me feel relaxed. I know he is. But all it does is increase my anxiety.

  I look up to Dante, my throat tight. Why did he bring me here? Here of all places.

  Someone closes the trunk, making me jump. Dante is beside me again, standing close enough for our arms to touch. Cristiano looks like he has something to say but doesn’t. Instead, he climbs into the passenger seat of one of the three SUVs with their darkly tinted windows.

  Dante does that thing again, his hand on the back of my neck, and I turn to him.

  “Are you okay?”

  Why did you bring me here?

  I want to ask it, but I don’t. Instead, I nod and climb into the back seat of the SUV. I scoot to the other side as Dante gets in beside me. A few moments later, we’re moving.

  The coast is beautiful. Even in winter, even though it’s cold, there’s something almost magical about this turquoise sea. All I can do is stare out the window at it as we drive. When our procession comes to a stop at a port, the men step out. Dante and Cristiano talk briefly in Italian before Dante turns to me, holds out his hand.

  “We’ll take the boat from here. You and me together. Okay?”

  I nod but I’m starting to feel sick. It will be good to have a break before we get to the house. Good to get myself ready. This should feel good, right? I think about this as I squint against the sun, making my way across the lot to the boats bobbing in the water. But the truth is, I can’t remember the last time I dreamt of being rescued. Of coming home.

  Home.

  No.

  The island isn’t home. Not really. I lived with my grandmother although I guess we spent much of our time on the island. I don’t remember my mother and never knew my father. Is he out there somewhere? Does he even know I exist? Does he care? No because if he did, he’d have come for me. I don’t have any siblings that I’m aware of. My mother died before I could even form memories of her. I am alone.

  As that thought settles over me my gaze falls on Dante and something inside my chest aches.

  No, I won’t fool myself.

  I. Am. Alone.

  I make myself repeat it.

  We reach the boats. Dante climbs onto one, then reaches a hand to me. Cristiano is nearby, Matthaeus beside him.

  “I can’t swim,” I say when I look down at the boat bobbing in the water.

  “Well, we’re hopefully not swimming today,” Dante says with a smile. “But just in case, I’m a strong enough swimmer for the both of us, okay?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Give me your hand,” he says, his smile gone when I don’t respond. “I won’t let you fall, Mara. I’ll never let you fall.”

  I hear his words. Think of all they can mean. Think how stupid it would be for me to trust them no matter how much I want to. How desperate I am to.

  But then Samuel comes to mind. His deception. My stupidity. It helps. And when I place my hand into Dante’s, I don’t let myself think about how it feels when he holds it, how he feels when I’m close to him. I step onto the boat and sit down where he directs me inside the little cabin. He starts the engine and a few moments later, we’re moving, the sound deafening, our speed exhilarating.

  It’s cold but I don’t care. I get up, make my way outside. Salt air blows my hair, droplets of water hitting my face.

  “Go back inside. It’s too cold.”

  I shake my head, sit down at the front, turn my face into the wind. It feels wonderful. God. I feel alive.

  He makes a sound and I glance at him to find him smiling. And when he shifts his attention to steering, I watch him. I watch his dark hair blow in the wind, watch how he stands so strong and straight, unyielding to the cold. Stronger than any man I’ve ever known.

  And there’s that feeling again. Home.

  But I’d better be careful with that. Careful to guard my heart.

  As the island comes into view and he slows the boat, any exhilaration dissipates, replaced by an anxiety so deep I feel like I’m going to be sick. Because there it is. The hulking house on the island. The safe haven that turned into something so opposite, so gruesome.

  The place I watched my best friend murdered.

  The place I saw them all dying.

  Dead.

  The place my nightmare began.

  23

  Dante

  She leans over the edge and throws up as soon as I dock
the boat.

  I rush to her, wrap a hand around her arm when she leans too far out. When it’s over, she looks up at me, her red-rimmed eyes shiny making the blue look like shards of glass. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

  I could chalk it up to travel. Time differences. Jet lag. Lack of sleep and sea sickness but I know that’s not what this is. And as much as I wish I could tell myself all of those things, her words quash any hopes of that lie.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asks.

  I see the door open over her shoulder, see Lenore rush out but stop. See little Alessandro and Scarlett behind her. She turns to follows my gaze too, but I stop her, take her arms and rub.

  “Your family is here, Mara. This is where you belong.”

  Her eyes mist with fresh tears, sadness softening her features. “I can’t do this,” she manages, her voice barely a whisper before it breaks on a sob.

  I pull her to me, and she lets me. For the first time since I found her, since I carried her out of that penthouse, she gives herself over to my embrace. She lets me carry her full weight, hugging her arms tightly around my middle and pressing her face into my chest as if she can burrow inside, disappear there. If my heart hadn’t already broken when I first saw her, saw what they’d done to her, it is surely and wholly split in two now as I hold the trembling remnants of what was once a beautiful, vibrant girl in my arms.

  I gather my own strength. Collect my rage. Build it like a weapon around all the pain, all the loss and my arms wrap tighter around her.

  I will kill the men who did this to her.

  I will tear them limb from limb.

  * * *

  I walk with her around the island first. Cristiano and the others go inside. I see Lenore watching from the window. See her face as she takes in her granddaughter, a woman now. A stranger. She hasn’t seen her in fifteen years. I don’t know what she expected. A happy reunion, maybe. It was naïve if she did. Wishful thinking.

  We walk for more than an hour along the beach, climbing the cliff to a midway point. I avoid the top. The mausoleum. She knows it’s there, but I get the feeling she’s avoiding it too.

  She doesn’t talk. Neither of us do. Her arms stay wrapped around herself and I know I should give her space, but I don’t. I can’t. I stay close. She has to know I won’t let anything else happen to her. Because I still remember those words she spoke to me in the beginning.

  “Dante would never have let what happened to me happen.”

  I will never forget them. Forget how she sounded when she said them. Forget how she looked at me then.

  When we’re back down on the beach around the back of the house we stop, and she sits in the sand. I sit beside her.

  “Do you remember what I told you?” I ask.

  She doesn’t look at me. Her gaze is fixed on the water, fingers digging in the sand. I get the feeling she’s holding on by a thread. Her anxiety is a living, breathing thing.

  “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again. You’re safe here, Mara. Safe with me.”

  She turns to me, opens her mouth to say something but just then comes a bark from around the corner of the house. We both turn to find Cerberus charging toward us at full speed, a giant beast of a dog.

  I get to my feet, ready to grab him before he can get near her and scare her half to death. Who the fuck let him out here?

  After he gives me a cursory lick on the face, I pull him away, only to see her extend a hand to him, letting him sniff it, then laying it on his head to pet him. He seems to understand to be gentle as he licks her hand, then her arm. I loosen my grip as he brings his face to hers, sniffing loudly before nuzzling his cold, wet nose in her neck. This makes her close her eyes and giggle when she lets him tackle her to the ground and lick her face excitedly.

  I stand back and watch in awe. Her eyes are closed against the onslaught of affection from my brother’s would-be beast who is a gentle giant at heart.

  And when I hear footsteps, I turn to find Noah, Scarlett’s younger brother, walk casually toward us, a smile playing on his lips at the sight. I look at him. He’s twenty years old now. Mara’s age. Still a kid in my mind but not really, not if I look at him in this moment. He’s a man. Like me.

  Mara sits up when she sees him and something about her expression rubs me the wrong way. It’s not the reaction she had to me or to my men. She doesn’t cringe away, getting to her feet, looking to me for guidance. Hiding behind me. No, she remains as she is and watches him come toward us, her gaze curious. I feel something in my gut that is the opposite of what I should feel.

  “He’s not a puppy but I figured you still loved dogs,” Noah says in English. We speak English at the house mostly for Scarlett and Noah, although they both speak Italian fluently now. I still don’t know how much Italian Mara remembers but her English is perfect. She even has an American accent. I know Helga wasn’t American according to Scarlett and I wonder if she had American teachers.

  But I don’t much care about that right now.

  Right now, I’m watching this strange interaction playing out before me.

  Noah greets me with a nod. He still isn’t my biggest fan after what happened five years ago. Talk about holding a grudge. I nod back and watch him take a seat beside Cerberus and Mara. He throws the ball out into the water and Cerberus goes after it. Noah has been working out, bulking up his skinny frame. I only now realize how much bigger he is, although nowhere near as big as me.

  He switches his gaze to watch the dog, but Mara keeps hers locked on the side of his face. And as she watches him, there it is again, that tightening in my gut, the energy in my hands as if they want to fist. To attack.

  “Noah,” she says.

  He turns to her, gives her a smile that’s not quite a man’s smile just yet. He nods. “Wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

  She smiles at him and I see a warmth in that smile that she’s shared with no one else. Not even me.

  My jaw clenches and it takes all I have to keep my hands from turning into fists.

  Cerberus comes running out of the water, drops the ball and shakes off, sending water all over us. Mara and Noah laugh. I mutter a curse as a cloud crosses the sun stealing its heat.

  “We should get inside. I’m sure your grandmother wants to see you,” I snap. I’m talking to her but looking at him and wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. This is what I want, right? Her home. Her relaxed. Her feeling safe. Normal.

  This is exactly what I want for her.

  So what the fuck is my problem?

  “Okay,” Mara says and when I shift my gaze to hers, she’s looking at me again. But the moment I meet her eyes, she blinks, swallows, stands up a little taller as her gaze grows a little more distant, a little more closed off.

  She’s steeling herself. It’s not against me, I tell myself. It’s against what’s to come.

  But when we head to the door, I notice she falls back to walk beside Noah, not me, as we enter the house. They’re all waiting, like they were watching, Lenore wringing her hands with worry, tension high. Then Alessandro charges around the corner, pulling his eye patch in place as he crashes into my legs. His greeting is warm and welcoming, a reminder to get my head out of my ass and be happy that she remembers Noah. Be happy of her instant connection with him.

  Because what the fuck is wrong with me that I would feel like this.

  Fucking jealous.

  24

  Dante

  Mara smiles at Scarlett first, recognizing her from the night at the house in the Netherlands. She looks at her rounded belly. My sister-in-law glows with the pregnancy. She’s beautiful already but like this, happy, she’s almost too bright to look at.

  I want that for Mara.

  I want her to glow with happiness.

  They hug and Scarlett rubs her back then draws away to look at her. Mara’s about an inch taller than Scarlett but so much younger. Not only in age but in every way.

  “It’s really goo
d to see you again,” she says. “I was so worried about you. We all were.”

  Mara smiles. I see the effort it takes. “I was worried about you, too.”

  Lenore sniffles and we turn to her. She has tears streaming down her face. Mara’s eyes fill up and she glances at me momentarily before letting Lenore hug her so tight I’m afraid she’s going to break her.

  “Darling girl,” Lenore says. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  Mara’s eyes are huge, she’s got her arms around Lenore but she’s not crying. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

  Lenore draws back, looks her over, then hugs her again, telling her she’s made all her favorite foods. I wonder what they could be considering she was five last Lenore saw her. I have no idea what her favorite food is. I wonder if she even has one.

  Cristiano hangs back. I can see she’s a little more leery of him. Like she is with me in a way. She glances at him then quickly away and I bend down to pick up Alessandro.

  “And this is Alessandro,” I tell her.

  He extends his arm to shake her hand. She smiles at him, taking in the eye patch. She shakes his little hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Alessandro. How old are you?”

  “Four.” He holds up four fingers, double checks that it’s only four, then adjusts his patch which in his rush he’s gotten twisted.

  “Let me fix that there, little man,” I tell him, setting him down and crouching to take off the patch then put it back on. He’s watching Mara.

  “I hear you’re going to be a big brother soon,” she says.

  “Yeah. It’s going to be a girl though,” he says, not hiding his disappointment.

  “Hey. Girls are fun.”

  “I guess. I’m helping get her room ready.” He glances at Scarlett then leans closer to Mara. “If it wasn’t for me everything would be pink.”

  “Well,” Mara starts with a smile. “It’s good you took care of that.”