The heavy doors of the dining hall closed with a loud thud. The sound felt like a final bell in a fight. Dante didn't sit down. He didn't touch his coffee. He just stood at the head of the long table, his tall shadow falling over Leo.
The air in the room was thick. It smelled like the cold rain from outside and the faint, sharp scent of gunpowder on Dante's suit. Leo looked up and noticed a tiny, dark red spot on Dante's white collar. It was blood.
"You're staring, Leo," Dante said. His voice was a low, rough growl that made Leo's heart skip a beat.
"There is blood on you," Leo said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Again. Was your 'meeting' that bad? Or did someone just make you angry?"
Dante walked closer. Each step of his heavy boots on the marble floor sounded like a warning. He stopped right next to Leo's chair and leaned down. He was so close that Leo could see the dark fire in his eyes.
"In my world, Leo, a bad meeting ends with a funeral," Dante said coldly. He reached out and tilted Leo's chin up with his hand. "The Mafia Council thinks I've become soft. They see a doctor living in my house, and they think I've lost my edge."
Leo pulled his face away and stood up quickly. His chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Then let me leave! If I'm making you look weak, open the gates. I never asked for this, Dante. I never asked to be the reason people are scared or hurt."
Dante didn't move, but his eyes turned even darker. He stepped into Leo's space, forcing Leo back against the edge of the table.
"Stop lying to yourself," Dante hissed. He put his hand on the table next to Leo's hip, leaning in until their chests almost touched. "You think you can just walk out of here? You think you can go back to being a normal doctor? The world won't let you. Everyone knows you are the man who saved the Moretti Boss. To my enemies, you aren't just a doctor—you are my heart. And they want to stop my heart."
Leo shook his head, his breath hitching. "I was just doing my job. It didn't mean anything—"
"It meant everything!" Dante roared. He slammed his hand on the table, making the silverware rattle. "The moment you saved me, your old life died. You aren't a bystander anymore. You are a target. If you walk out those gates alone, you are a dead man. They will hunt you down just to get to me."
Leo felt a chill go down his spine. He looked at Dante's face and realized something terrifying. Dante wasn't just being a bully. He was actually afraid of losing Leo.
"I'm not keeping you here as a prisoner, Leo," Dante said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I'm keeping you here because I'm the only one who can keep you breathing. You aren't a captive. You are a survivor. And as long as you are behind these walls, no one can touch you."
Leo looked down at the table, his mind spinning. "So this is my life now? I stay here forever? I watch the staff shake with fear every time I walk by?"
Dante reached out. This time, his touch was softer. He traced Leo's bottom lip with his thumb. It was a sweet gesture, but his words were like ice.
"You stay here because I say so," Dante whispered. "I would rather have you hate me in this house than have the world cry for you at a funeral. The Council wanted to 'remove' you. I told them that if they even look at you, I will burn their entire world to the ground."
Dante turned and walked toward the large windows. He looked out at his estate, his back straight and powerful.
"Eat your breakfast," Dante commanded. "And don't worry about Etienne. As long as you are happy and smiling, he is safe. It's a simple rule, Leo. Learn it."
Leo sat back down, his legs feeling weak. He looked at the expensive food, but he wasn't hungry anymore. He realized that the mansion wasn't just a house—it was a fortress built to hide him away from the world.
Dante wasn't just his protector. He was his owner. And as Leo looked at the blood on Dante's collar, he realized the scariest part: he was starting to feel safe in the shadow of a monster.