HELENA’S POV
The cold metal pressed into my temple, freezing me in place. My eyes met Dante’s, wide with shock and urgency, but there was no time to process it before the gunshot rang out. The air cracked with the sound, and the metallic clatter of a gun dropping to the floor echoed in the silence that followed. Instinct took over, and I immediately ducked under the table, my hands flying to cover my ears as my breaths came out in sharp, trembling bursts.
The chaos, the screams, the gunshots-it all blurred, taking me back to a place I’d buried deep within me. I didn’t want to remember it but with the shots ringing out in my ear, I was forced back to that same scenario Luca’s blood leaking unto my face as he dived to protect me.
The images flashed behind my eyelids as I squeezed them shut, trying to block out the horrid, relentless sound of bullets tearing through air.
And then, silence.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I knew Dante wasn’t in his seat anymore. Whoever had attacked us was now facing his wrath, and I didn’t know who was firing and who was falling. All I knew was that if I made it out of this alive, I’d leave Algreen Cove for good. With or without Dante’s memory. With or without him. My survival was no longer a negotiation-it was a necessity and I knew somehow the Anotti’s were still out for blood.
A hand touched my shoulder, and I flinched, the contact sending a jolt through my nerves.
“It’s me,” Dante’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard, coaxing me out from under the table. “We have to leave before the police gets here. You’re safe with me, don’t worry”
Numb, I reached for his outstretched hand, and he pulled me up, steadying me as I found my legs wobbly beneath me as I stepped over some bodies sprawled out on the floor. The restaurant was I disarray, shattered glasses, overturned tables, bodies sprawled on the floor. Dante guided me carefully over the mess, past the terrified onlookers who were fleeing the restaurant, away from the remnants of a night meant to be a fresh start.
We slipped out the back exit and into the night, climbing into his car. I slid into the seat and buckled myself in automatically, still dazed as we pulled out of the parking lot. Dante’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw set and muscles tense as he drove in silence.
I didn’t have the strength to ask where we were going. Instead, I stared out the window, my mind spinning in the aftermath. Every shot fired had reminded me of the Anottis, of the blood they’d shed without remorse, of the lives they’d taken without a single moment of hesitation. A lifetime’s worth of resentment coiled inside me like a viper, venomous and relentless.
Finally, Dante spoke, his voice slicing through the thick silence. “Those men-they were the Anottis. I wonder why they’re seeking a war.” His words held the same calculating edge they always did, though now there was a note of bitterness beneath them that I felt somehow underneath my trauma.
“You started this war,” I murmured, barely audible, but Dante heard me. “You killed Tony Anotti Tony killed my father and brother” I said remembering the tone of passion Dante had used to deliver the news of Tony’s death just before he plunged his length into me and I grasped unto him for more.
Dante’s foot pressed harder on the gas, and the car accelerated, the engine’s hum filling the quiet. I didn’t need to explain why. He knew Tony had killed my father. He knew why I’d never forgive any of them for what they’d done to my family, even if he no longer remembered the details.
Dante didn’t stop driving until we reached a secluded riverbank, shrouded by trees and the sounds of night. He got out first, slamming the door before kicking a rock with a frustrated grunt, his voice strangled with anger. I watched him silently, making no move to comfort him. I was just as shaken.
“This,” he shouted to the empty air, “this is what makes me weak. How am I supposed to protect you if I can’t remember the wars I’m fighting? I can’t defend myself if I don’t even know what I’m up against.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking at me, and there was a fury in his gaze, both fierce and wounded. “How am I supposed to protect you?”
It was a silly question, he doesn’t even remember me, but I kept my comments to myself. There was no point poking the wounded bear.
I didn’t know if his anger was directed at me, the Anottis, or the gaps in his own memory, but it roared off him like a storm, fierce and chaotic. A part of me wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to protect me, that I was leaving and wouldn’t burden him with any of it. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
Instead, I stepped forward, reaching up to touch his face. My fingers brushed against his skin, soft yet rough, like velvet over stone. His anger seemed to burn beneath my fingertips, a controlled rage tempered only by the barriers he’d built around himself.
“You’re not weak,” I whispered, letting my thumb graze his cheek. “You’re just a man without memories. That doesn’t make you weak.”
His eyes met mine, searching, aching with something he couldn’t quite name. “My memories were my strength. What kind of man forgets his own wife?” He laughed bitterly, a sound that broke my heart, and the pain in his gaze twisted like a knife. “How can I trust myself when I don’t even know who I am?”
I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat as I tried to smile, to soothe him even if I knew the truth would only hurt him more. “You’ll remember eventually,” I said, though I knew it was a lie. We didn’t have enough time left to cling to empty promises.
For a moment, Dante just watched me, a look in his eyes I couldn’t decipher. “There’s something about you, Helena. Something… delicate, something tender, something a man needs” His hand found my waist, pulling me closer until I was wrapped in his warmth, enveloped by the familiar scent that was so uniquely his. His gaze drifted over my face, a raw intensity in his eyes that left me breathless, vulnerable in a way I couldn’t explain.
His lips hovered just above mine, close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. He tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him as his voice softened. “Promise me something.”
I nodded, my heart beating in my throat, waiting for his request.
“Promise me I’ll see you again. And that you’ll help me get my memories back.”
His words weighed heavy between us, an anchor pulling me down even as I felt the urge to run, to escape before it became impossible to walk away. Yet, with Dante’s gaze piercing into mine, waiting for my answer, I couldn’t bring myself to deny him.
“Yes,” I whispered, knowing it was a lie. “I promise.”
A subtle pain flickered in his eyes, but he took my answer, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw as if memorizing every detail. The intensity in his gaze seemed to seep into me, wrapping around my heart and tethering it to a man who didn’t even remember why he’d loved me in the first place.
How could I tell him I was leaving in two days?