"Tease Me One More Time..." the Mafia Boss Said—She Had No Idea Who He Was

Dante Moretti was not dead.

He was a force of nature fueled by pure, unadulterated vengeance. The blow to his head had knocked him unconscious, but he had awakened to find his estate in ruins and his queen stolen.

He didn't waste time mourning. He gathered the surviving loyalists of his syndicate, heavily armed them from his hidden armories, and launched an apocalyptic assault on the Konstantinos compound on the mainland.

The night sky over the Greek coast ignited with violence.

Emily jolted awake in her dark cell as a massive, concussive explosion rocked the foundation of the underground bunker. Dust rained down from the concrete ceiling.

The heavy, rhythmic thud of automatic gunfire echoed through the corridors above. Men were screaming. The unmistakable, chaotic symphony of a mafia war had arrived at her doorstep.

She stood up, pressing herself against the iron door, her heart hammering wildly.

Footsteps rushed down the hallway outside her cell. The heavy deadbolts on her door were suddenly thrown back.

A Greek guard burst into the room, raising his weapon, entirely panicked. He had been ordered to execute her before the compound fell.

Before the guard could pull the trigger, a suppressed shot ripped through the doorway. The guard collapsed, a neat bullet hole through the center of his forehead.

A massive figure stepped over the body into the dim light of the cell.

He was covered in soot, dirt, and blood. His black tactical gear was torn, and a vicious cut bled freely over his left eye. He looked like the devil himself climbing out of hell.

“Dante,” Emily sobbed, her knees completely giving out.

Dante crossed the room in a single bound, catching her before she hit the floor. He dropped his weapon, wrapping his arms fiercely around her, crushing her against his chest. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent as if she were oxygen.

“I told you I would burn the world down to find you,” Dante whispered roughly, his massive body shaking with the profound, overwhelming relief of holding her alive.

“You came back,” she cried, clutching his tactical vest, refusing to let go.

“I will always come back for you,” Dante vowed, pulling back to look at her bruised face, his eyes darkening with a fresh wave of murderous rage. He gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “Can you walk?”