Under His Protection

Chapter 3: Under Fire

The air in the backroom of Il Lupo, Dante's favorite restaurant and unofficial base of operations, was thick with tension. The meeting with a rival family, the Costas, was meant to be simple—a negotiation to avoid bloodshed. But in Dante's world, things were never that simple. He could feel the hostility simmering beneath the surface as he sat at the head of the table, his cold gaze fixed on Marco Costa, the family's hot-headed leader.

Leo stood behind Dante, always watchful. His presence was solid, his eyes constantly moving across the room, assessing every man who entered. Nothing escaped Leo's sharp attention, and it was one of the reasons Dante trusted him so completely.

"I'm giving you a way out, Marco," Dante said, his voice smooth but dangerous. "Back off from our territory, and we won't have a problem."

Marco leaned forward, a cruel smile on his lips. "And what if I don't feel like backing off, Ricci? You think your muscle here," he jerked his chin toward Leo, "can protect you from what's coming?"

Leo's eyes narrowed but remained fixed on Marco. He didn't need to speak for his presence to convey a warning. But Marco wasn't one to be easily intimidated, and Dante knew it. The room crackled with unspoken threats, and Dante's hand inched toward the gun tucked beneath his suit jacket.

In an instant, everything shifted.

The door to the backroom burst open, and a flash of movement came from the hallway. Gunfire exploded before anyone could react. Shots rang out, shattering glass and sending everyone ducking for cover. Dante felt Leo move before he even registered the threat. In one fluid motion, Leo shoved Dante to the ground, covering him with his own body as bullets ripped through the room.

Chaos erupted. Marco's men returned fire, but the attack had clearly been coordinated. More gunmen flooded the room, and the entire place turned into a war zone. Dante's heart raced, but he kept his focus on the immediate danger. His instinct for survival kicked in, but Leo was already a step ahead.

"Stay down," Leo growled, his voice low but commanding as he shielded Dante from the barrage.

Dante pulled his own gun, shooting at the attackers from behind the overturned table. Blood pounded in his ears, the room blurring in the frantic exchange of gunfire. Leo moved like a predator, calculated and deadly. He returned fire with lethal precision, taking out two of the assailants in quick succession.

The gunfight lasted only minutes, but it felt like an eternity. By the time the dust settled, bodies littered the floor, and the acrid smell of smoke hung in the air. Dante pushed himself up, his chest heaving from the adrenaline. He glanced around, making sure none of Marco's men had survived.

Marco Costa lay slumped against the wall, a bullet between his eyes. It was over. For now.

Dante turned his attention to Leo, who was checking the room for any remaining threats. There was blood on Leo's shirt, a superficial graze on his arm, but otherwise, he seemed unscathed. His face was as calm and unreadable as ever, but his dark eyes flicked toward Dante.

"You alright?" Leo asked, his voice steady, as if they hadn't just been ambushed.

Dante nodded, though his mind was still reeling. Leo had saved his life. And not just out of duty—there had been something more in the way Leo had reacted, a raw, protective instinct that went beyond the professional detachment he usually maintained.

"Moretti," Dante said, straightening himself and walking closer. "That was quick thinking. You saved me."

Leo wiped some of the blood from his brow and nodded, still scanning the room. "It's what I'm here for."

But Dante could see through the nonchalance. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Leo. "You didn't hesitate. You moved like you'd die before letting anything happen to me."

Leo met Dante's gaze, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I'm just doing my job."

Dante's heart raced, and it wasn't from the adrenaline of the attack. He didn't know if it was the intensity of the moment or something that had been brewing beneath the surface for weeks, but the air between them felt charged. He stepped even closer, his voice dropping.

"I think you care more than you let on, Moretti."

Leo's jaw clenched, but he didn't back away. For the second time, Dante could see the crack in the man's armor—the briefest flicker of emotion in those dark eyes. Dante's heart pounded, his gaze lingering on Leo's tense features, and for a moment, the violence of the world around them faded into the background.

"You saved my life today," Dante said softly, almost more to himself than to Leo.

Leo didn't respond, but his eyes stayed locked with Dante's, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Then, just as quickly as it had come, Leo's stoic mask returned.

"I protect what's important," Leo said, his voice low but firm.

Dante's breath hitched, but before he could respond, the sound of sirens echoed in the distance, pulling them both back to the present. Leo turned away, moving to clear the scene before the authorities arrived.

But as Dante watched him go, something had changed between them. Something neither of them could ignore any longer.