The city didn't change all at once. In fact, it wasn't until the change had almost slapped her in the face did she even notice it happening.
At first, Mila thought it was just coincidence. The buildings outside the car window stopped looking like they were going to fall down at any moment. The trash disappeared from the sidewalks. People looked happy to be there.
Even the storefronts had glass that wasn't cracked or boarded over or had bars in front of them.
Then the roads changed.
They smoothed out beneath the tires, the ride going quiet in a way she wasn't used to. No rattling. No sudden dips. The kind of pavement that got repaired before it ever became a problem.
She shifted in her seat and looked out the window more carefully.
They were moving north. Or east. She wasn't sure anymore. All she knew was that the dirty concrete buildings she recognized were gone, replaced by rows of houses that looked nothing like home.
Each one was big.
Too flashy for her tastes. Too gaudy to be anything outside of a movie set. Each one was large, clean, and set back from the road in a way that screamed money.
And the further they drove, the bigger the properties became.
Mila pressed her lips together, furrowing her brows just slightly. "Where are we?"
Dante didn't bother to an answer her, he was just typing away on his phone, a brief look of rage on his face that disappeared fast before anyone could really clock it.
Pretending that she didn't see it, Mila watched the neighborhoods pass, her chest tightening as the distance between this place and her reality stretched wider with every block.
This wasn't somewhere you wandered into by accident. This was the kind of area people like her weren't meant to see unless they were cleaning it or delivering something.
Eventually, the houses thinned out and the green space got bigger and bigger.
Massive stone walls appeared next, almost coming out of nowhere. They weren't overly dramatic, just high enough to suggest that whatever was on the other side wasn't meant to be seen unless it chose to be.
The only break in them appared to be black iron gates that screamed wealth.
"Good fences make good neighbors," said Dante, briefly looking over at Mila and then out the window for a second before turning back to his cell. "Marco wanted a moat with crocodiles, but I vetoed it."
Mila's mouth dropped open for a second as she stared at him. She couldn't be 100% sure that he wasn't making a joke.
Deciding that no comment was the best move, she continued to watch the stone walls until the car slowed down.
Mila felt it then. The moment they crossed a line she couldn't walk back over.
The gate slid open, smooth and quiet.
Guards stood on either side. Real ones in suits that looked like they should be standing in front of the White House. They were so still and alert that it sent goosebumps up and down Mila's arms.
Two of them held the leashes of massive dogs, the dogs calm but focused, their eyes tracking the car as it passed.
Mila twisted in her seat and stared at it through the rear window as the iron gate closed behind the car.
Her stomach dropped. "Is that really necessary?" she asked.
Dante didn't look at her. "Yes." The word was clipped and Mila fell silent.
The car continued up the driveway. It was long enough that Mila lost track of time watching the trees and manicured hedges pass by.
Everything was too perfect. Too deliberate. The lawn stretched wide and green under soft lighting, trimmed so evenly it looked unreal.
She had never seen grass like that up close before.
A fountain came into view near the front of the house with water spilling over swans like this man had never had to worry about a water bill in his life. The house itself rose behind it made of more huge, pale stones, with tall windows and balconies that overlooked the grounds.
This wasn't a house by anyone's definition.
This was an estate.
Mila let out a short laugh she didn't mean to make. "You're joking."
Dante simply turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I should have gotten the moat with aligators. Apparently, that would be more acceptable to you than my house."
The car stopped.
The driver got out first. So did two guards who hadn't been visible until now. They moved quickly, efficiently, opening doors and scanning the area like someone might burst out of the hedges at any second.
Dante opened Mila's door himself.
"Time to go," he announced, putting his phone back in his pocket.
Mila hesitated. Her shoulder throbbed where it had been pressed against the back seat of the car, and now that the pressure was gone, it started bleeding again. The sharp pain reminded her she was very far from safe, no matter how calm everything looked.
But she didn't have a choice. She couldn't stay the in car forever, and she wasn't willing to get dragged out of it.
Taking in a deep breath, she stepped out, holding her head high.
The air smelled clean. Not like the city. Not like exhaust or trash or old concrete. It smelled like cut grass and water and something faintly floral.
It made her even more uneasy.
She stared up at the front of the house, counting windows without meaning to. There were too many to track. Balconies stacked above each other. Lights on in rooms she couldn't imagine needing.
"How big is it?" she asked.
"Just under twenty thousand square feet," Dante replied.
She blinked. "That's not a house, that's a castle."
He gave her a look that said he didn't care.
They walked toward the entrance. Guards flanked them on both sides. Mila noticed cameras mounted discreetly under the eaves, at the corners of the building, along the driveway. Nothing obvious. Nothing sloppy.
She stopped short at the base of the steps.
"Hold on," she said. "I'm covered in dirt and blood. There is no way I am going inside and not leaving a mess. And don't think for a single second that I am cleaning this monstrosity."
Dante paused and turned to look at her. Something flickered in his eyes… a touch of amusement at her expense.
"Don't be silly," he said. "That's why I employ a full staff. You can make this place as dirty as you want."
Mila stared at him. "A full staff."
"Yes."
She looked past him at the open doors. Inside, she could see marble floors, a sweeping staircase, and more light than her apartment had seen in years.
"If there is anything you want to eat," Dante continued, "let the chef know."
Her laugh this time was sharper. "You're serious."
He stepped closer. Not threatening. Not gentle. Just close enough that she couldn't ignore him.
"Very."