Dante POV
"We go to war."
The words had barely left my mouth when Shayla collapsed.
Not from fear this time. From exhaustion. Her body simply gave out, overwhelmed by everything—the shooting, the bath, the phone call, Vanessa's kidnapping.
I caught her before she hit the floor, her little body going completely limp in my arms.
"Shayla?" I checked her pulse. Strong. She'd just fainted.
I carried her back to the bed, tucked her in, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Sleep, baby girl. Daddy will fix everything."
Even unconscious, she whimpered at my voice.
I pulled out my phone and left the nursery, closing the door quietly behind me. I had twenty-four hours to save a woman I didn't care about to protect the woman I'd die for.
Time to make some calls.
"You want to WHAT?" Lorenzo exploded through the phone.
"Rescue Vanessa Morrison," I repeated calmly, standing in the hallway outside Shayla's room. "Russo has her. We have twenty-four hours."
"The same Vanessa who leaked the video? Who posted Shayla's address online? Who literally tried to destroy her own sister?" My brother's voice dripped with disgust. "Let Russo keep her."
"I would. Happily." I checked the monitor—Shayla was still sleeping, curled around that stuffed wolf. "But Shayla will never forgive herself if her sister dies. She'll blame herself. It'll break her."
Silence. Then Lorenzo sighed. "You really care about this girl."
"She saved Sofia."
"It's more than that." My brother knew me too well. "You're in love with her."
I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. I'd known Shayla for one night. You couldn't fall in love that fast.
Except I'd been watching her for two years. Protecting her. Learning her patterns. Seeing her strength and vulnerability. And tonight, holding her while she cried, bathing her with tender care, hearing her call me Daddy—
Maybe I'd been falling in love for two years and just hadn't admitted it until now.
"Get me everything on Russo's location," I said instead of answering. "Every property, every warehouse, every place he might hold someone. And find out how Marcus Holloway fits into this. I want to know why Shayla's manager is working with my enemy."
"Already on it. Boss—" Lorenzo paused. "If this goes wrong, if it's a trap—"
"Then you take care of Shayla. Promise me."
"I promise." Another pause. "She really got to you, didn't she?"
"She saved my niece. Now I'm saving her. That's all."
Lorenzo laughed. "Keep telling yourself that, brother."
He hung up.
I checked the monitor again. Shayla had rolled over, clutching the wolf tighter. Even in sleep, she looked worried.
I couldn't watch her sleep all night from the hallway. I needed to be closer. Needed to make sure she was safe.
I grabbed a chair, carried it into her room, and positioned it beside her bed. Close enough to protect. Far enough to not scare her when she woke up.
Her breathing was soft and even. Peaceful, finally.
I watched her for three hours, making plans, sending texts, coordinating with my men. The shoulder wound throbbed but I ignored it. Pain was nothing.
At 4 AM, she whimpered. Another nightmare.
I reached over, stroked her hair. "Shh, baby. Daddy's here."
She calmed immediately, relaxing back into sleep.
Something in my chest cracked open. Something that had been frozen since my wife died eight years ago.
I'd thought I'd never feel this again—the desperate need to protect someone. The overwhelming tenderness. The willingness to burn the world down if it meant keeping her safe.
But there it was. Breaking through ice. Warming something I'd thought was dead forever.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," I whispered. "I promise."
She woke at 7 AM, eyes flying open, immediately alert.
"Where—" She saw me in the chair and relaxed slightly. "Dante."
Not Daddy. She was "big" now. I could see it in her eyes—the champion, the fighter, the woman who'd been betrayed too many times to trust easily.
"Morning," I said gently. "How do you feel?"
She sat up slowly, clutching the blanket. "Mortified."
"Why?"
"Because I—" Her cheeks flushed red. "I called you Daddy. Asked you to give me a bath. I—" She buried her face in her hands. "Oh god, you must think I'm insane."
"I think you're brave," I said simply. "I think you survived trauma the only way you could. And I think you're exactly what you're supposed to be."
She peeked at me through her fingers. "You don't think I'm broken?"
"No more broken than I am." I leaned forward. "Shayla, I lost my wife and unborn child eight years ago. Rival family killed them to hurt me. I thought I'd never have a family again. Never be someone's husband or father." I paused. "Then you saved Sofia. And I've been watching you ever since, seeing your strength and your struggles. Last night, when you called me Daddy—it healed something in me I thought was dead."
Tears filled her eyes. "Really?"
"Really." I pulled out a folder I'd prepared during the night. "I want to make you an offer. A real one, not just emergency protection."
She wiped her eyes, the champion coming back. "I'm listening."
"I'll be your Daddy Dom. Full-time caregiver. I'll manage your wrestling career properly—no more theft, no more exploitation. I'll provide everything you need: safety, structure, the space to be little whenever you want it. In return, you attend business events with me as my companion. It helps both our public images."
"That's it?" She looked suspicious. "What about... sex?"
"No sexual expectations unless you want them. This is about caregiving, not manipulation." I met her eyes. "I know you've been used by everyone in your life. I won't do that. If you want to stay in separate rooms forever, that's fine. If you only want to be little sometimes, that's fine. You set the boundaries."
She studied me for a long moment. "And my sister?"
"I'll get her back. Today."
"How?"
"Let me worry about that." I opened the folder. "Right now, we need to discuss terms. I'm thinking a one-week trial. If you hate it, you can leave. No questions, no consequences. I'll still rescue Vanessa either way."
"Why would you rescue her if I leave?"
"Because you love her despite everything she's done. And I—" I stopped myself before saying something too honest. "I protect the people my little girl loves."
Shayla's breath hitched at "my little girl."
She looked at the folder. At me. At the nursery around us.
"One week," she said finally. "But I have conditions."
"Name them."
"I need to know you're doing this for the right reasons. Not because you pity me or want to control me like everyone else."
"I'm doing this because you deserve someone who fights for you instead of against you."
"And if it doesn't work? If I can't be what you need?"
"Then we tried. No regrets." I held out my hand. "Do we have a deal?"
She stared at my hand. I could see her mind racing—weighing risks, calculating trust, deciding if she could take one more chance on someone.
Finally, she reached out and shook my hand.
"One week," she said firmly. "Starting now."
Relief flooded through me. "Starting now."
My phone buzzed. Text from Lorenzo: Found Russo's location. Also found something else. You need to see this NOW.
Attached was a photo that made my blood run cold.
Vanessa, tied to a chair. But behind her wasn't just Marcus and Russo's men.
Behind her was Derek—Shayla's ex-boyfriend who'd leaked the video.
And behind him was someone I'd never expected to see working with Russo.
My own cousin. Antonio Salvatore.
The man I'd trusted with family secrets. The man who knew about Sofia's kidnapping two years ago. The man who knew I'd been protecting Shayla.
He'd been the traitor all along.
"No," I whispered.
"What?" Shayla grabbed my arm. "What's wrong?"
I showed her the photo.
She gasped. "That's—that's your cousin. I've seen his picture in the news. Why is he—"
"He's been feeding information to Russo for years. About my business. My family." My jaw clenched. "About you."
"Me?"
"He's the one who told Russo you saved Sofia. He's the reason Russo knows you matter to me." My hands shook with rage. "He's the reason your sister got kidnapped."
Another text from Lorenzo: It gets worse. Antonio just sent out a hit order. Not on Vanessa. On YOU. Russo wants Shayla alive. Antonio wants you dead. The meeting tonight is a trap to kill you both.
I stood, my mind racing.
"Dante?" Shayla's voice was small. Scared. "What do we do?"
I looked at her—this brave woman who'd agreed to trust me just thirty seconds ago.
"We have two choices," I said quietly. "We can run and let your sister die. Or we can walk into a trap set by people I trusted and hope we survive."
"That's not a choice."
"I know."
She stood, walking to me, taking my hand. Big now, not little. The champion, not the child.
"Then we fight," she said. "Together."
My phone buzzed again.
Another photo. This one of Sofia—my niece, the child Shayla had saved—standing outside her school.
The message: We have eyes on the little girl too. Come alone tonight, or everyone you love dies. -Russo
They were threatening Sofia now.
The child Shayla had saved. The reason I'd protected her. The innocent six-year-old who had nothing to do with any of this.
I looked at Shayla, and I saw the exact moment she understood.
"They'll kill her," she whispered. "If we don't go, they'll kill that little girl."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
Because I knew she was right.
And I knew what I had to do.
"Get dressed," I said, my voice dead. "We're going to war. And some of us might not come back."