The Price of Protection and the Dancer Who Refused to Bend
My hands shook as I stared at the phone screen.
Suddenly, the phone buzzed, vibrating against the wooden table.
An unknown number flashed on the screen.
I swiped to answer, my voice barely a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Sophia,” Dante’s voice came through the speaker, calm and steady.
“I have a car waiting outside your building.”
I pulled the thin curtain back and looked down at the street.
A sleek black sedan sat idling by the curb, its exhaust venting white steam into the freezing morning air.
I called Mrs. Patel, who agreed to come up and watch Lily immediately.
I kissed Lily’s warm forehead as she slept, her soft breath even and peaceful.
“I will be back soon, my sweet girl,” I whispered against her skin.
I grabbed my worn winter coat, checked my purse for my phone, and headed downstairs.
The driver was a tall man in a dark, tailored suit who stood perfectly still by the rear door.
He opened the door for me without saying a single word.
I slid into the leather seat, which smelled of expensive wood polish and clean upholstery.