“Who sent you?” Dante asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, but he needed to buy time.

The man advanced with lethal calm, searching for the next angle to fire.

The air in the bedroom was dense, electric. Hidden behind the heavy dresser, Dante sharpened his senses. He heard the footsteps—measured, feline. The attacker moved like a predator, but Dante was no prey. His whole life had prepared him for this.

The man raised the weapon. Pulled the trigger.

Nothing. A dry click broke the silence. The gun jammed.

That was all Dante needed.

He leapt from hiding like a furious shadow and slammed into the man with brutal force. They both went down. The pistol flew from his hand and slid under the bed.

Dante didn’t hesitate. Instinct and fury took over. His hands went for the attacker’s throat, but the man reacted quickly, landing an elbow to Dante’s jaw.

“You’ll need more than that,” Dante growled, every word vibrating with rage.

The man tried to get up, but Dante grabbed his leg and slammed him