Chapter 340: You’re In No Position To Get Her Back From Dimitri

Luca looked at him with the kind of expression that suggested he was choosing his words very carefully.

"You’re in no position to get her back from Dimitri right now," Luca said simply. "You can’t walk. You can barely move. And Dimitri controls the territory where she’s being held."

"I don’t care," Dante said coldly.

"Listen to me," Luca said, leaning forward. "I suggest that you take your time. You heal. You recover. You become strong again. And in the meantime, Isabella is actually safer than you might think."

"What do you mean?" Dante asked.

"The alliance," Luca said. "Everyone in the underworld knows about the Valentino-Russo alliance. That marriage was supposed to unite the families. That’s been the plan since Dimitri and Isabella were children."

Luca paused, letting that sink in.

"Dimitri won’t kill her," Luca continued. "He won’t destroy her completely. Because if he does, he risks war with the Russo family. And despite everything that’s happened, Dimitri understands the political implications. Isabella is protected by that alliance, whether she knows it or not."

Dante wanted to argue, wanted to say that he didn’t care about political implications, that Isabella belonged to him and he was getting her regardless.

But he understood the logic.

The alliance Dimitri had with the Russo family, the one that was supposed to bind them together through Isabella’s marriage...that alliance would prevent Dimitri from doing anything truly irreversible to Isabella.

She would be safe. Broken, perhaps. Traumatized, definitely. But alive.

"So what are you suggesting?" Dante asked.

"I’m suggesting that you take your time here," Luca said. "You heal. You recover. You get your strength back. Let your legs heal. Let your mind strategize. And when you’re at full strength, when you’re back in Rome with your own territory and your own people, THEN you figure out how to get Isabella back."

Luca leaned back in his chair.

"Revenge is better served cold, Dante," Luca said. "And a man who can’t walk is a man who’s vulnerable. A man who can walk, who has his full strength, who’s back in his own territory with his own resources...that man is dangerous. That man can actually accomplish what he sets out to do."

Dante was quiet for a long moment, weighing the logic of what Luca was saying against the burning need to act immediately.

But intellectually, he knew Luca was right.

He couldn’t retrieve Isabella right now. He couldn’t even retrieve himself from New York without exposing his entire operation.

What he COULD do was heal. What he COULD do was strategize. What he COULD do was return to Rome and rebuild his power base and plan the next phase.

"Okay," Dante said finally. "You’re right. We heal. We recover. We get back to Rome where we have resources and power. And when I can walk again, when I’m at full strength, we handle Isabella."

Luca nodded, understanding that Dante had made the logical choice even if it cost him in the short term.

Within the next forty eight hours, The safe house became a command center despite Dante’s immobility.

He couldn’t move, but he could LEAD.

He made calls through encrypted lines to Vittorio in Rome, assessing the status of their home operation. Vittorio reported that everything was secure, the businesses were running, the money was moving, the alliances with the other Calabrian families were holding.

"The news is spreading through the underworld," Vittorio reported. "About the warehouse situation. About you being in New York."

"Let it spread," Dante said coldly. "Tell anyone who asks that we executed a strategic retreat. That we’re consolidating operations and returning to our primary territory. Tell them that the Romano family is stronger than ever."

It was a story. It was a narrative designed to maintain reputation and power in the underworld despite their tactical defeat.

But it was also rooted in truth. They WERE retreating to their primary territory. They WOULD consolidate and rebuild. The Romano family WOULD emerge from this stronger because they understood that this wasn’t over.

Luca made arrangements for the private plane. He gathered weapons, cash, documents. He set up a secure transport route that avoided any potential Dimitri surveillance.

And Dante, lying on the cot with his legs elevated, planned.

He thought about his brother Salvatore. That debt remained unsettled. Dimitri had killed him in Rome, and the blood debt had never been paid.

Then came Eve. Dimitri’s woman. The leverage that Dante had held briefly before it was ripped away.

And now Isabella. His possession. His woman. Taken by Dimitri to prove a point.

These were debts. Multiple debts, layered upon each other, compounding with interest.

And Dante understood something that most men didn’t: patience was a weapon. A man who could wait, who could plan, who could strategize across months and years, was far more dangerous than a man who acted in desperation.

Dimitri had won the battle.

But Dante understood something fundamental about war: battles are temporary. Conflicts are permanent.

And a man with nothing to lose is far more dangerous than a man with everything to protect.

***

*THE MORNING OF DEPARTURE*

The plane was waiting at a private airfield outside the city.

Luca had arranged for a medical team to accompany them, a nurse and a doctor who would maintain Dante’s care during the flight and after they arrived in Rome.

Dante was wheeled to the plane on a specialized gurney, his legs still elevated, the pain still significant but manageable with medication.

As they loaded him onto the aircraft, Dante looked back at the New York skyline.

Dimitri controlled this territory.

But not for long. Not permanently.

Because Dante was returning. Not immediately. Not in his current condition.

But he was RETURNING.

Luca settled into the seat across from Dante once they were airborne.

"We’re heading home," Luca said simply.

"Yes," Dante agreed. "Let’s get back to Rome. It’s time to go home."

As the plane climbed toward altitude, Dante closed his eyes and began to plan.

Salvatore’s debt.

Isabella’s reclamation.

These were goals. These were objectives. These were the things that would drive him forward through months of painful recovery and rehabilitation.

By the time he could walk again, he would have a plan.

By the time he returned to New York, if he returned, it would be with absolute certainty about what needed to happen.

And Dimitri would understand that letting him live was the greatest mistake he’d ever made.

Because a wounded animal is unpredictable.

But a wounded animal that’s had months to plan? A wounded animal that’s had time to heal and strategize and rebuild?

That’s the most dangerous thing in the world.

The plane leveled off at cruising altitude.

And Dante, bleeding and broken and absolutely furious, began the long process of rebuilding himself.

Because this wasn’t over.

This was just the beginning.