Page 38 of And Back

I glance at my phone again, hoping against hope for a message from her. Nothing. The emptiness on that screen mirrors the void inside me. How did everything go so wrong? How did we end up here?

I slam my hand against the steering wheel in frustration, feeling utterly powerless for the first time in years. The walls I've built around myself are crumbling, and all I can do is watch as everything falls apart.

I love you, Zoe. If only I could tell you that now—if only you’d listen.

The car roars as I push down on the accelerator, needing to get to Dante and demand answers—to make sense of this chaos somehow. But even as I drive faster and faster, I know deep down that no explanation will bring Zoe back into my arms.

I pull into the secluded building where Dante and I have met countless times before. I slam on the brakes, sending a cloud of dust into the air. The car door swings open violently as I step out, slamming it shut behind me. Dante is already there, his car is parked perfectly, mirroring the infuriatingly calm expression I know Dante will have on his face.

I burst through the door, my footsteps echoing ominously in the cavernous room. Dante stands by the window. The sight of his calm demeanor is gasoline to the wildfire of my rage. I stride towards him with purpose, each step fueled by anger and betrayal.

Without hesitation, my fist connects with his jaw. The rush of adrenaline and satisfaction courses through me, but it’s fleeting. Beneath the surface, hurt and confusion rage like a storm.

Dante stumbles back, catching himself against the window frame. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, a bruise already forming on his face. His expression remains infuriatingly calm.

"I deserve that," he says evenly, not moving to defend himself. His composed response only fuels my fury further.

I grab him by the collar, lifting him slightly off his feet. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" My voice is a growl, every word laced with venom.

Dante's green eyes lock onto mine, unwavering. "Virgilio?—"

I don’t think; I just react. My second punch lands in Dante’s stomach, and he doubles over, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Satisfaction rushes through me, brief but potent. Yet it doesn't last. Nothing does when it comes to the tangled mess of our lives.

Dante straightens, quicker than I expect, catching my fist as I attempt a third strike. His grip is firm but not painful. "Stop," he commands, his voice steady despite the anger radiating off me in waves.

For a moment, we stand locked in a silent battle of wills, our breaths heavy and mingling in the charged air between us. He releases my fist and steps back, maintaining eye contact.

I stare at him, my chest heaving with rage and frustration. “How could you?” The words tumble out, raw and unfiltered. “How could you betray me like that?”

Dante's eyes soften slightly, though his posture remains resolute. “It wasn’t meant to be like this,” he says quietly.

“Then what the hell was it meant to be?” I demand, taking a step closer.

Dante runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I snap back. “And you made the wrong one.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No, Virgilio. The choices were never simple or easy.” He looks away briefly before meeting my gaze again. “We’re in this mess because of Benedetto. Everything we’ve done has been about survival.”

I glare at Dante, the rage simmering beneath my skin like a wildfire. "Go fuck yourself," I spit out, the words cutting through the thick tension between us.

Dante takes a deep breath, his expression unyielding. "I know you're pissed," he says calmly. "But I told her because she needed to know the truth."

"The truth?" I scoff, my voice rising. "You think dumping all of this on her helps anyone? You've only made things worse!"

Dante steps closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity. "Everything will be fine once our father is dead," he says, each word deliberate and heavy with conviction.

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to swing at him again. The mention of Benedetto brings a fresh wave of anger crashing over me. “You think that justifies what you did? What you told her?”

Dante’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. “She deserved to know. Keeping her in the dark was never going to protect her in the long run.”

“And now she’s gone!” I shout, my voice echoing in the empty room. “You drove her away!”

Dante’s expression hardens just a fraction. “She’s strong, Virgilio. Stronger than you give her credit for.”

I shake my head, feeling a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. “This was never about underestimating her strength. This was about keeping her safe from our world—from him.”

“And how long do you think you could have kept that up?” Dante asks, his tone measured but unrelenting.

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