Chapter 284

She cried out as someone spun her around and slammed her against the railing.

The impact drove the air from her lungs.

Dante.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

He stood in front of her, his face illuminated by the flashlight he held in one hand. His hair was dishevelled, his breathing uneven, and the pleasant expression he had worn throughout their earlier confrontation was gone.

There was nothing gentle about him now. Nothing that resembled the father she had spent years trying to remember.

His eyes moved over her face.

"Did you really think you could get away from me?"

Emilia tried to pull free. "Let me go."

Dante caught her by the throat.

Her back struck the railing. She gasped, her hands flying to his wrist.

"Stop!"

His fingers tightened.

Emilia’s feet left the floor. For one horrifying second, she didn’t understand what was happening.

Then she felt the railing against the backs of her legs.

Dante had lifted her.

He was holding her by the neck, her body suspended over the edge of the roof.

The darkness below seemed endless.

Emilia looked down.

The ground was far beneath her. She couldn’t see the bottom clearly, only a patchwork of shadows and faint lights.

Her stomach lurched.

She clawed at Dante’s hand. "Dad!"

The word tore from her throat.

He didn’t loosen his grip.

"Dad, it’s me." Her voice came out strangled.

She slapped at his hand, trying to force his fingers apart, but he held her with frightening strength.

"Dad, please—"

Dante stared at her.

For one moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his expression.

Recognition, or a memory.

Something that might remind him that she was not an enemy standing in his way.

She seized it. "Dad, remember how you always—" Her voice broke as his fingers tightened.

She gasped.

He lifted her a little higher, forcing more of her weight beyond the railing.

Emilia’s legs kicked helplessly over the empty space.

"Dad, please." Her eyes filled with tears.

She couldn’t breathe properly. Every word scraped painfully against her throat, and the pressure of his hand made it difficult to draw enough air into her lungs.

She could feel herself slipping. "Dad, it’s Emilia." She drew in strained breaths.

He stared into her eyes.

She stared back.

For a moment, the whole world seemed to narrow to the space between them.

She was no longer thinking about the companies, the documents, or the money.

She was thinking about being seven years old. About sitting beside her father while he showed her how to write her name.

About the way he used to call her princess.

She had spent so much of her life trying to reconcile those memories with the man who had stood in front of her tonight.

She had wanted to believe that somewhere beneath the cruelty, the manipulation, and the greed, there was still a part of him that remembered her.

A part that might see his daughter and stop.

"Dad," she whispered.

Dante’s face remained inches from hers.

His green eyes were dark.

She searched them desperately.

She wanted him to remember. She wanted him to look at her and see the little girl who had once trusted him with everything.

She wanted him to understand that she had never asked to be born into his life, never asked to be dragged into his crimes, and never wanted to become the person he was willing to destroy for money.

However, he kept staring at her, and his grip did not loosen.

"Dad, please."

The words barely made it past his hand.

His eyes held hers.

Neither of them looked away.

The wind moved around them, tugging at Emilia’s hair and clothes. Her fingers continued to strike his wrist, weaker now, while she struggled to keep her body from slipping farther over the edge.

Dante’s face was so close that she could see the tiny lines around his eyes. She could see the anger in them.

The impatience. The terrible certainty that he had every right to do this. And beneath it all, something that frightened her more than the fall.

He did not look like a man fighting with himself. He did not look like a father who had lost control in a moment of anger.

He looked like someone who had made a decision.

Emilia’s lips trembled. "Dad."

Dante’s fingers tightened again.

She gasped. And still, she kept looking at him.

Because some part of her, was waiting for him to stop. Waiting for him to remember. Waiting for him to become someone else.

She did not hear the door open behind them. She did not hear the footsteps crossing the roof.

Neither did Dante.

They were so completely locked in each other’s gaze that the man approaching them remained unnoticed until he was close enough to raise his gun.

Adrian had found them.

He stood several feet away, his chest rising and falling from the run up the stairs.

The scene in front of him lasted less than a second before his mind caught up with what his eyes were seeing.

Emilia was suspended over the roof’s edge.

Dante held her by the throat. Her feet kicked above the ground. And beneath her, there was nothing to catch her if he let go.

Adrian’s heart stopped.

For a fraction of a second, he couldn’t move.

"Let her go." His voice cut through the darkness.

Dante’s head snapped toward him.

Emilia’s eyes widened. "Adrian—"

Dante’s grip tightened reflexively.

Adrian raised the gun. "Release her."

Dante looked from Adrian to Emilia.

A slow, ugly smile spread across his face. "You’re late."

Adrian’s hands were steady. His heart was not. "Let her go, Dante."

"You should have signed the papers."

"You can have the companies."

Dante blinked. For the first time that night, surprise crossed his face.

Adrian kept his gun trained on him.

"Belmont Oil. The subsidiaries. The money. Whatever you want. You can have it."

Emilia stared at him.

Dante’s smile widened. "You’re finally learning."

"Let her go."

"Sign the papers."

"I will."

"All of them."

"Yes."

"No more conditions. No more demands. No more trying to outsmart me."

Adrian’s jaw tightened. "Yes."

Dante studied him. For one terrible moment, it seemed he might actually believe him. Then he smiled.

"Put the gun down."

Adrian didn’t move.

Dante looked at Emilia. "Or I’ll drop her."

Emilia’s fingers tightened around his wrist.

Adrian could see the effort it took for her to keep her eyes open. He could see the fear in her face.

And he knew that if he put the gun down, Dante would have no reason to keep his word.

He also knew that if he fired, there was a chance Dante would release Emilia before Adrian could reach her.

He had one shot.

One chance. And he could not afford to miss.

"Adrian," Emilia whispered.

He looked at her.

Her eyes were wet, and her face pale. She was trying to say something.

He couldn’t hear it.

Adrian’s finger tightened around the trigger.

Dante’s expression changed He saw the decision forming. "No."

The word came too late.

Adrian fired.

The gunshot cracked across the roof.

Dante jerked violently as the bullet struck the back of his knee.

His hand spasmed. His grip on Emilia’s throat broke. For a split second, she hung in the air with nothing holding her.

Then she fell.