Page 88 of Second Chance Daddy
“Voicemail,” she whispers, petrified.
My hands start to shake so bad I have to sit on them.
“He’s fine,” Tina says, but I don’t know who she’s trying to convince. “He’s just... busy.”
The room grows darker as clouds swallow the last of the daylight.
And then, the distant rumble of engines cuts through the rain like a blade to the gut.
My heart stops. Then kicks back to life so hard my ribs feel like they might crack.
Tina’s at the window in an instant, shoving the curtain aside. “It’s them.”
The front door crashes open within a matter of seconds.
My knees nearly buckle when I see him—Dante—storming through the doorway like a war just ended behind him. His jaw’s tight, shoulders squared, eyes wild—but all I see is the little bundle in his arms.
Aria.
She’s curled against his chest, dazed, pale, but alive.
“Aria.” Her name shatters out of me, my legs moving before my brain catches up. I reach them, hands trembling, heart cracking wide open. “Oh my god, Aria?” I look up at Dante. “Why isn’t she waking up?”
“She’s fine,” he whispers, kissing Aria’s little head. “The bastard sedated her. The doctor’s on his way.”
She’s so small in his hold. Her head limp on his shoulder. Eyes fluttering open, lashes sticking together like she cried herself raw. But she’s here.
I break.
Tears flood down my cheeks as I cup her face, press kisses to her head, her cheeks, her little hands. She whimpers, burying her face in Dante’s neck, and I can’t blame her. The safest place in the world right now? It’s wherever he is.
I look up at him, and his face… God, it’s carved from stone. But his arms tighten around both of us, one locking around my waist, the other cradling her like she’s glass.
For a second, none of us speaks.
We just… exist.
I sob into his shirt. He holds steady like he’s carrying the weight of all three of us.
And then Tina’s voice slices through, sharp with something like fear.
“Dante.” Her eyes drop lower, her face blanching. “You’re bleeding.”
I follow her gaze.
His jacket’s slicked dark along the side. Blood soaks the fabric. Not his, I realize—there’s too much of it for that, and the way he stands?
Unbothered.
“What… what did you do?” Tina’s voice hardens, cuts like steel.
27
DANTE & CASSIE
Dante
The earth is still damp where I bury the evidence.
