Page 39 of And Back

“Long enough,” I snap back, though even as I say it, I know it’s a lie.

Dante sighs, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease a persistent headache. “Look… once we succeed with our plan and Benedetto is out of the picture for good... you can beat the shit out of me as much as you want.”

I blink, taken aback by his offer. It feels like an olive branch wrapped in barbed wire—painful but necessary.

“But for now,” Dante continues, his voice steady and resolute, “we have to focus on what matters: taking our father down.”

I clench my fists, the tension rippling through my muscles. My voice trembles with suppressed emotion as I look him in the eye. "Do you have any idea what this has cost me? What is it still costing me?"

Dante's hand remains on my shoulder, his grip firm but not aggressive. "I know, Virgilio," he says softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that only comes from shared suffering. "Believe me, I do."

I shake my head, pulling away from his touch. "No, you don't," I snap, my voice raw. "You don’t know what it’s like to watch the person you love walk away because of choices we made—choices I made to protect her."

Dante’s expression tightens, and for a moment, I see a flicker of pain in his eyes. "You think this is easy for me?" he asks quietly. "You think I don’t know what you feel? That day I lost my life, and I lived in the dark ever since. Now, every memory I get back feels like a dagger twisting in a wound that never got the chance to heal."

My anger falters for a moment as his words sink in. But the pain is still too fresh, too sharp to let go completely. I run a hand through my hair in frustration, pacing the room like a caged animal. "But now she's gone," I mutter, more to myself than to him.

"We can fix this," Dante insists, following my movements with his eyes. "Once Benedetto is out of the picture, we can start over. We can make things right."

I stop pacing and turn to face him, my chest heaving with emotion. "And what if we don't succeed?" I ask bitterly. "What if all of this—everything we've sacrificed—ends up being for nothing?"

Dante's jaw sets in determination. "We won't fail," he says with conviction.

I let out a slow breath, feeling the fight drain out of me. The truth is, I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally. The constant battle against our father’s shadow has worn me down in ways I can barely articulate.

Dante places both hands on my shoulders now, grounding me with his presence. "I know it wasn't fair," he says softly. "I'm sorry, brother."

His apology is a fragile offering of reconciliation.

"But we have to stay focused," Dante continues gently but firmly. "Once our father is dead... things will be different."

I search his eyes for any hint of deception or delusion but find only sincerity.

"Fine," I say at last, nodding reluctantly as I meet his gaze once more. The tension in my expression remains but shifts into something more resigned than angry.

"But this isn't over," I add quietly.

Dante nods in agreement, understanding that while we may have reached an uneasy truce for now, the wounds between us—and within us—will take much longer to heal.

We stand there for a moment longer in silence. Together we'll face whatever comes next because that's all we've ever known how to do: survive.

And maybe—just maybe—find a way to live again, once this nightmare finally ends.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ZOE

Istep out of the car, my heart thudding in my chest as I take in the extravagant venue before me.

The large, elegant hall is adorned with lavish decorations. The runway stretches out like a gleaming path, surrounded by rows of chairs filled with fashion elites, media, and influencers. The atmosphere buzzes with excitement and anticipation, a tangible energy that makes my nerves flutter.

Valerie stands beside me, her presence a comforting anchor. We both look elegant and composed, our outfits carefully chosen like armors, designed to reflect our shared determination and professionalism. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. This is it—the moment I’ve been working toward, the chance to prove myself not just to Sabine, but to the entire fashion world.

As we step into the hall, my eyes scan the room. Faces blur together in a sea of expectations and judgments. My pulse quickens as I spot Sabine across the room, already surrounded by admirers and photographers. She looks confident, almost smug, and I feel a surge of determination rise within me. This is my chance to show everyone what I’m capable of.

Valerie squeezes my hand gently, pulling me back from my thoughts. “You’ve got this,” she whispers to me. I nod, grateful for her support. Together, we make our way toward our designated area.

Every step feels like a march toward destiny. My mind races with thoughts of all the work that led up to this moment—the late nights sketching designs, the countless hours sewing fabric until my fingers bled. All of it has brought me here, to this glittering hall where dreams are made or shattered.

---