Lissy Romano

12| Lion's den.

Lissy Romano

He raised his hand, and in that instant, my world froze. The pain I braced for didn't come, but the fear? That was already carved into my bones. My hands instinctively shot up to shield my face, waiting for the impact.

But... nothing.

I lowered my trembling hands and glanced up, cautiously. Dante stood there, his expression frozen between confusion and something I couldn't quite place. Shock, maybe? He stepped back, his hands falling to his sides as he stared at me like I was some puzzle he couldn't solve.

Vincenzo had stopped typing, his sharp eyes flicking between Dante and me. He shut his laptop and leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable but focused.

"You thought I was going to hit you?" Dante's voice cracked as he broke the silence.

Shit. What do I say now? Lie? No, Lissy, you suck at lying to them. But if I tell the truth...

"You want to explain yourself?" Vincenzo's deep, commanding voice made the air feel heavier.

"I—" I stammered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, seconds away from a fatal fall. "I thought... I mean, you yelled so aggressively, and you lifted your hand. I know you hate me... it wouldn't have been a surprise."

"Hate you?" Dante's voice softened, like the very idea hurt him. "I don't hate you. I would never lay a hand on you."

His words caught me off guard. My heart didn't know whether to believe him or keep clinging to the walls I'd built to protect myself.

I glanced at Vincenzo, searching for some sort of confirmation, but he was silent, observing.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "I just thought—"

"Don't," Vincenzo interrupted, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to apologize for, Lissy."

Dante's jaw tightened. He took a step back and muttered, "I need to go." Without another word, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving his boxing gloves behind.

I stood there awkwardly, glancing at Vincenzo for permission to leave.

"You can go to your room, Lissy," he said, his focus back on his laptop.

I picked up Dante's boxing gloves before leaving. I didn't know why I grabbed them—maybe it was guilt, or maybe I just needed an excuse to see him again.

When I reached his door, I hesitated for a moment before knocking.

"Come in," his voice called out.

I opened the door and found him sitting on his bed, staring at a photo frame in his hands. The moment he saw me, he quickly shoved the frame under his pillow, as if it was something precious.

"You left these in the kitchen," I said quietly, holding out the gloves.

"Thanks," he said, taking them from me without meeting my eyes.

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

"Lissy... don't go."

I froze. Did I hear him right? Dante, the man who barely tolerated my presence, was asking me to stay?

I turned back, and for the first time, I saw it—vulnerability. His usual tough demeanor had crumbled, and his eyes were watery, brimming with emotions he clearly didn't know how to express.

I stepped closer, cautiously, and sat on the floor in front of him.

"Dante?" I whispered, tilting my head to meet his gaze.

"Don't look at me like this," he muttered, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"What happened?" I asked, my concern overriding my fear.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

"For what?"

"For scaring you. For making you think..." He looked away, as if ashamed. "I would never hurt you, Lissy. Never."

His words hit me harder than I expected. I believed him.

"It's okay," I said softly, placing my hand on his leg.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place—regret, maybe? Pain?

"I wasn't always like this," he began, his voice raw. "I used to be different. Before you were taken... I was different. When you were gone, it broke something in me. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me most."

"Dante, it's not your fault," I said gently, trying to reassure him.

"I don't want you to think that I'm angry because of you being back. I'm happy you're here, Lissy. I just..." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I'm a mess. And I've been taking it out on you. I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me one day."

"I already do," I said, surprising even myself.

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of dishonesty. When he didn't find any, he nodded.

"I love you, sorellina," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Those words shattered every wall I had. He loves me? Dante? The same man who yelled at me, who pushed me away, who made me feel unwanted?

"I love you too, brother," I said, my voice trembling with emotion.

"Just... don't tell the others about this," he added, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at his lips.

I chuckled softly. "Our little secret."

"Thanks. For the gloves too," he said, his tone lighter now.

Before I could leave, I asked, "What was in that photo frame you were holding earlier?"

He hesitated, then sighed. "Don't laugh," he warned, pulling the frame out from under the pillow.

When he turned it toward me, my heart clenched. It was a photo of a teenage Dante holding a baby—me. We were both asleep.

"That's you," he said quietly. "You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

Tears welled up in my eyes. For the first time, I felt truly safe with him.
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