A Dance with Danger

Chapter Seventy-Seven

**Estelle's POV**

I ran my fingers through my afro as I walked into the living room, the soft curls of my hair slipping between my fingers as I attempted to smooth them out. It was one of those quiet, peaceful mornings when everything felt somewhat normal, despite everything that had happened recently. The weight of the world hadn't quite lifted, but I was doing my best to keep a sense of calm. The chaos of the last few weeks had been overwhelming, and for the first time in a while, I was beginning to feel the tension in my shoulders relax just a bit.

I was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a simple green top, my usual attire when I needed a break from everything. I sank into the chair by the window, the sunlight spilling through the glass, casting a warm glow on the room. The familiar hum of the TV filled the background as I opened my laptop to check my emails. The simple task felt grounding, a small way to keep my mind occupied.

I picked up my glass of water, taking a slow sip as I glanced at the screen. The email inbox was a mixture of work-related messages and personal ones, all blending together in a blur. I wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with work, but the distractions helped to fill the quiet.

The TV droned on in the background, reporting on some random event that didn't capture my attention at first. But then, something caught my ear. The reporter's voice had shifted to a more somber tone, and her words sliced through the fog of my thoughts.

"56-year-old Cesare Alfonso, a famous former hockey coach, has died."

I froze, the glass of water half-raised to my lips. My heart skipped a beat, and the water sloshed dangerously as I nearly choked. I sputtered slightly, coughing hard as I set the glass down on the table. The shock of hearing his name, his death, hit me harder than I expected. Cesare Alfonso-the man who had wreaked havoc in my life for so many years, the man who had hurt me and those I loved-was dead. The relief I felt was immediate, but it came with a rush of emotions that left me breathless.

I turned my gaze to the television, the reporter standing in front of a hospital, the headline flashing on the screen. Cesare had died. His reign of terror was finally over, and it was like a weight had been lifted from my chest. For the first time in a long time, I could breathe without feeling the lingering threat of him hanging over me.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, the kind of smile that didn't quite feel real at first but slowly blossomed with a mix of relief and vindication. Cesare Alfonso, the man who had hurt me, who had hurt so many others, was gone. He wouldn't hurt anyone else. Not anymore.

Before I could fully process the wave of emotions flooding through me, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. The familiar tread of boots on the floor echoed in the hallway before the door to the living room swung open, and Tiberius entered. His presence filled the space instantly, the air around him seeming to grow thicker with his energy.

His eyes locked onto mine, and I couldn't help but notice the way his gaze softened as he looked at me. Tiberius didn't say anything at first. Instead, he simply crossed the room toward me, his movements fluid and purposeful. When he reached my side, I stood up to meet him, feeling a mixture of gratitude and awe.

I didn't need to ask him what had happened. The moment I saw the look on his face, I knew. His expression was still cold, still intense as always, but there was something softer in the way he held himself. Something that told me he had done what needed to be done.

Without saying a word, I stepped into his arms, my hands rising to his chest as I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. His lips were warm and firm against mine, a kiss that felt like both an apology and a thank you all wrapped into one. It was as if the kiss was the only way I could communicate all the emotions swirling inside me. Words felt inadequate in that moment, but my actions spoke louder than anything I could say.

When I pulled away, I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.

Tiberius didn't respond immediately. His hands moved to my shoulders, his touch light but firm as he held me steady. His gaze flickered down to my lips, a faint hint of something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he met my gaze again.

"You don't need to thank me," he murmured, his voice low, his words barely audible above the quiet hum of the TV. "He deserved it."

I nodded, but the truth was, his words didn't even matter. The gratitude I felt toward him went beyond words. It wasn't just for what he had done for me-it was for everything. For the way he had protected me, for the way he had stood by my side through everything. I had never felt more secure, more understood, than I did in that moment with him.

Tiberius moved slightly, stepping back to glance at the TV. His eyes narrowed for a brief moment as he saw the reporter still speaking about Cesare's death. But I knew he wasn't really paying attention. He had more pressing things on his mind. He always did.

I, however, couldn't tear my gaze away from the screen. The news was still sinking in, and I couldn't help but replay the events in my mind. Cesare was dead, and it was because of Tiberius. He had made sure of it. He had removed the threat from my life, from all of our lives.

"I never thought I'd be relieved to hear that," I muttered to myself, but Tiberius caught the words. He didn't say anything at first, but I felt his gaze on me, felt the way he always seemed to understand things I didn't say aloud.

"I know," he said quietly, his voice steady. "But sometimes, letting go is the only way to move forward."

I swallowed, the weight of his words settling in. There was truth in what he said. And as much as I had wanted to see Cesare pay for what he had done to me, to my family, and to so many others, hearing of his death was the final piece of a puzzle I hadn't realized I'd been working on for so long. It was a step toward healing, toward freedom. But I also knew it would take time for the scars to truly heal.

Tiberius stepped toward the window, his silhouette dark against the fading light of the day. His presence was overwhelming, and I could feel the tension in the room shift. It wasn't that the danger was gone-it was never truly gone-but Cesare's death felt like the end of one chapter. The beginning of a new one. A better one, maybe.

"You don't have to thank me, Estelle," he repeated, his voice soft yet firm. "You never have to thank me. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

I turned to face him fully, my heart swelling with affection and gratitude. The man I loved wasn't just a protector. He was everything I'd needed and more. In a world that had never been kind to me, Tiberius had been my rock.

I walked over to him, standing just a few feet away, feeling the pull between us as if nothing else mattered. And for a moment, it didn't. It was just us, and the world outside seemed to disappear.

"Thank you," I whispered again, this time my voice stronger, more certain. "For everything."

He didn't say anything in return, but his eyes softened, the smallest of smiles playing at the edges of his lips. It was a rare smile, one that showed the side of him I rarely saw but always appreciated. It was a smile that said everything without needing words.

And in that moment, as the last of the daylight filtered through the windows, I knew that, for once, things might finally be okay.