Page 57 of His Bride

I roar, tackling Lorenzo through the sauna door. Steam billows around us as we grapple on the hot wooden benches. Sweat mingles with blood, making our grips slippery.

“I’m the only one who can keep her safe,” I snarl, pinning him down. “From vultures like you.”

Lorenzo laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “Safe? You’ll drag her down into the darkness with you.”

For a moment, doubt creeps in. Am I protecting Adriana, or condemning her? But then I remember the threats, the danger that lurks around every corner. My famiglia needs me. Adriana needs me.

“Better the darkness with me,” I snarl, “than the false light you offer.”

I slam his head against the bench, feeling the fight drain from him. My chest heaves, every muscle screaming in protest. But I can’t stop. Not when everything I love is at stake.

With one final surge of strength, I drive my fist into Lorenzo’s jaw. The crack echoes in the steam-filled room. His neck twists and his body goes limp beneath me.

I stagger back, my legs trembling. The adrenaline starts to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. My knuckles throb, skin split and bleeding. Every breath feels like fire in my lungs.

“It’s over,” I mutter, more to myself than to Lorenzo’s lifeless form.

I lean against the sauna wall, letting the heat soak into my battered body. The fight replays in my mind - every punch, every kick, every vicious word. It wasn’t just about Lorenzo. It was about everything he represents - the threats to my family, to Adriana.

Adriana. Her name centers me, gives me purpose beyond the violence. I picture her waiting for me, probably worried sick. I need to get back to her, to make sure she’s safe.

I push off the wall, wincing as my bruised ribs protest. There’s a lot to deal with - the spa, Lorenzo, my injuries. But all I can think about is getting home to Adriana.

As I stumble out of the sauna, one thought drives me forward: I’ve kept her safe.

I survey the destruction around me, my mind already shifting into cleanup mode. Shattered glass crunches under my feet as I make my way to the reception area. The place looks like a war zone - upended furniture, smashed mirrors, blood spatters on pristine white tiles.

I pull out my phone, fingers leaving crimson streaks on the screen as I dial. “Enzo,” I say when he answers, my voice rough. “I need a cleanup crew at Serenity Spa. Now.”

“On it, boss,” he replies without hesitation. “How bad?”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “Let’s just say it’s not so serene anymore.”

As I end the call, my gaze falls on a framed photo of the spa owner - all smiles and fake tan. Poor bastard has no idea what hit his business. I’ll have to compensate him generously for the inconvenience.

I make my way to the exit, each step a reminder of the brutal fight. The adrenaline’s wearing off, and I can feel every punch Lorenzo landed. But the pain is almost welcome - a testament to what I’ll endure to protect what’s mine.

As I push open the door, the cool night air hits me like a slap. I breathe it in, tasting freedom and victory. Lorenzo’s out of the picture. One less threat to worry about.

I slide into my car, gripping the steering wheel. The leather feels cool against my battered knuckles. As I start the engine, a grim smile tugs at my split lip.

The drive home is a blur of streetlights and shadows. My mind races, replaying the fight, calculating the fallout. By the time I pull into the driveway, my body’s stiff, every movement a reminder of the battle.

I step out of the car, and there she is. Adriana. Standing in the doorway, her silhouette backlit by the warm glow from inside. My breath catches, not from pain, but from the sight of her.

“Dante?” Her voice trembles as I approach. Her eyes widen, taking in my battered state. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

I reach for her, cupping her face in my hands. “It’s nothing, cara mia. I’ve had worse.”

She shakes her head, her fingers ghosting over the bruise forming on my cheek. “Who did this to you?”

I hold her gaze, unflinching. “Lorenzo. But he won’t be a problem anymore. Not for me, not for you, not for anyone.”

Adriana goes still, the color draining from her face. I can see the realization dawning in her eyes, the understanding of what I’ve done. For a moment, I fear she’ll pull away, disgusted by the violence that clings to me like a second skin.

But then she surprises me. Her arms wrap around me, tight and desperate. “I’m just… I’m glad you’re safe,” she says against my chest. “I was so worried.”

I freeze, caught off guard by her embrace. This tenderness, this concern - it’s foreign to me. In my world, violence is met with more violence, not with care.

---