Dante's POV

I sat in the living room, staring at the glass of whiskey in my hand. It wasn't my first, but the burn in my throat wasn't doing enough to quiet the storm raging in my chest.

Fina was upstairs—our little sister. The girl we thought we'd never see again. The one we failed to protect. And now she was here, but she wasn't the same.

How could she be?

The bruises on her face, the way she flinched when Marco tried to approach her, how she hid behind Enzo like he was her last lifeline—it all felt like a punch to the gut.

"You're gonna shatter that glass if you grip it any harder," Matteo muttered, leaning back against the couch. He looked as tense as I felt, his usual smirk nowhere to be found.

I loosened my grip, setting the glass down on the table with more force than I intended. The sharp clink echoed in the silence.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"No, you're not," Enzo said from across the room. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw tight. "None of us are."

He was right, but I didn't want to admit it. Instead, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I ran a hand through my hair. "What the hell did they do to her?"

No one answered.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. None of us wanted to say it out loud, but we were all thinking the same thing. Whoever took Fina, whoever hurt her, was going to pay.

And they were going to pay in blood.

"She's terrified of us," Matteo said quietly, breaking the silence. "I don't blame her, but damn, it hurts to see her like that."

"She doesn't know us anymore," Antonio added, his voice low. He was sitting on the arm of the couch, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. "We're strangers to her now."

"She's not scared of Enzo," Luca said, his tone edged with something I couldn't place.

"Because I'm the one who got her out of there," Enzo snapped. "She's holding onto me because I was the first face she saw after all that hell."

"You're not the only one who cares about her," I said sharply, my voice louder than I intended.

"Then show it by keeping your temper in check," Enzo shot back, his eyes narrowing.

"Enough!" Luca cut in, his voice slicing through the tension. "Fighting isn't going to help her."

I clenched my fists, biting back the retort that was on the tip of my tongue. Luca was right, but the frustration still clawed at me. Sitting here, doing nothing, made me feel powerless.

"She needs time," Luca said softly, his eyes distant. "She's been through hell. We can't fix it overnight."

"I don't want to fix it overnight," I said, my voice low. "I just want her to feel safe. To know she's home."

"She will," Matteo said, though there was doubt in his voice. "We just have to give her space."

The room fell silent again, each of us lost in our thoughts. The weight of guilt was suffocating, pressing down on us like a lead blanket.

We'd spent years searching for her, years chasing ghosts and dead ends. And now that she was here, I realized that finding her was only the beginning.

I stood abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor. "I'm going to check on her."

"Dante—" Enzo started, but I shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks.

"She's my sister, too," I said firmly. "I'm not going to scare her. I just want to make sure she's okay."

Enzo didn't argue, though his jaw tightened. I didn't wait for anyone else to chime in. I made my way up the stairs, my footsteps heavy against the wooden floor.

When I reached her door, I hesitated. My hand hovered over the doorknob, the weight of everything hitting me all at once. What could I even say to her?

I knocked softly, not wanting to startle her.

There was no answer.

"Fina?" I called out, my voice quiet.

Still nothing.

I cracked the door open, just enough to see inside. The room was dim, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow. She wasn't on the bed. My chest tightened with panic until I spotted her in the corner, curled up against the wall.

She looked so small, so fragile.

"Fina," I said gently, stepping inside.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with fear. She pressed herself further into the corner, her body trembling.

"It's just me," I said quickly, raising my hands to show I wasn't a threat. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She didn't say anything, but the fear in her eyes didn't lessen.

I crouched down, keeping my distance, trying to make myself look as unthreatening as possible. "I just wanted to check on you. That's all."

Her gaze darted to the door, like she was calculating how fast she could escape if she needed to.

"I'm not here to force you into anything," I continued. "I just... I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. For everything. For not finding you sooner. For not protecting you."

Her expression didn't change, but I saw the way her shoulders tightened, like my words had struck a nerve.

"I know it's going to take time," I said, my voice soft. "But we're here now. You don't have to go through this alone."

For a moment, I thought she might respond. Her lips parted slightly, but then she pressed them together, her gaze dropping to the floor.

I didn't push.

"I'll go," I said, standing slowly. "But if you need anything—anything at all—you can come to me. Okay?"

She didn't look up, but I caught the faintest nod. It wasn't much, but it was something.

As I left the room, closing the door behind me, I leaned against the wall, letting out a shaky breath.

We'd found her. She was home.

But the road ahead was going to be long. And I wasn't sure if we were ready for it.