All I feel is pain.

He’s crushing my hand, and I hold it to my chest, hoping the pressure will relieve the pulsating ache. I look down at it and see blood. At this point, I’m not sure if it’s the man’s blood or mine.

I hit him hard, like I’ve never hit anyone before. Shit, it hurts.

Suddenly, I see the crowd of men—once feasting on me—direct their attention to a sudden movement. Something I can’t quite make out in my haze of adrenaline, pain, fear, and anger.

The man with the wicked smile falls to the ground, hitting the concrete with a harsh thud. I follow the men’s gaze and look up to see who or what did that. Praying it’s someone, anyone, here to help.

It’s him.

It’s my knight in shining armor.

Dante.

He came after me! He’s here!

A wave of relief rushes through me. I exhale, feeling some of the pain release.

He is mad, though, dangerously mad. The expression on his face is terrifying. There are veins in his neck that I’ve never seen before. They look as if they’re about to pop.

He looks strong, too. Intimidating. It frightens me, and I shudder, though I know the anger is not directed my way.

Cradling my hand, I move away from the action and stare in awe of the man who has come to my rescue. He’s radiating fierceness, and he’s focused, prepared to fight anyone who dares him.

Dante punches another man mere seconds after his first assault. The man grabs his head in anguish and retreats, tagging another to finish his job. Hah. Coward.

But one turns into five, and five multiplies into ten. It’s now ten to one.

Shit. They become a sea of darkness—leather-clad men with dark features fueled by anger and toxic testosterone.

It’s a heavy mix, one that I’m becoming more fearful of each passing second. I was scared before, but watching them swarm around Dante, I’m now panicking.

He pins one down with little to no effort. But they keep popping up, wanting more. Fighting for their livelihood, their manhood—I’m not sure—but they won’t give up.

I stare at Dante, amazed and afraid. He looks like a gladiator, fighting off the animals programmed to destroy him. I can’t look away.

He searched for me. Then, finding me like this, without any hesitation, he took it upon himself to rid me of this trouble. Helping and supporting me, like a man in love does.

I’ve been so wrong. This man, my Dante, is volunteering himself to protect and fight for me.

He could’ve left me and have gone into the arms—or bed—of another woman, one of the many eager for his attention. But he’s here, showing me that he’ll do anything for me.

Unlike the gladiators he resembles, he is not enslaved. His livelihood doesn’t depend on winning this fight and destroying these animals. His livelihood relies on me and my well-being, the life he is fighting for.

Warmth envelopes my body, and my pain dissolves. I look at him—surrounded by scoundrels foaming at the mouth—and I see my husband in a whole new light: a man who loves me, and the man I love.

I can’t believe I didn’t see this before.

I do…I love Dante!

I quickly snap back to reality when I see a man punch him hard in the gut. He kneels over from its suddenness, gasping for breath. Shit. Vulnerability is their specialty and just like last time, they take advantage.

After a punch in the face and a kick in the back, Dante is on all fours, hovering over the concrete. He looks at me with the most pained expression, and it breaks my heart.

I feel useless, hopeless. I don’t know what to do. I need to touch him, tell him I love him.

A man plunges at him from the side with a knife.

“Dante!” I scream.

He reacts immediately, grabbing the man’s arm, the knife now inches away from his chest. Standing, the assailant holds the knife pointed at his heart. Dante, holding him still, struggles to push him away.

I gasp, closing my mouth shut, trying to contain my reaction. One wrong move, and the knife would be in his heart. Stabbing him, leaving him for dead.

This is too much.

He can’t die.

This can’t be it.

It can’t be the end of our story. We’ve barely had one.

I need to tell him I love him. I have to tell him that he’s the one, the one I want and need. He can’t die not knowing.

I’m holding my breath as we all stare at the two of them. The crowd of men and I are aware of the severity of this moment—it’s life or death. Time stands still.

With a swift kick to the man’s knee, Dante forces him to the ground. He twists the man’s arm, loosening his grip on the knife. It falls beside him, the sound echoing in the empty aisle of the Colosseum. I exhale loudly.

There’s a quick scramble, the others trying to retrieve the weapon. The largest man does. Shit.

Luckily, Dante is aware and ready—blocking the man’s jabs, expertly pivoting his body away from his sudden movements. His focus is solely on him and the knife.

The other men try to force themselves between them, hoping to distract Dante. They’re just as intimidated by the knife, so their distractions are minimal—a random slap, trip, or scream. Nothing worthy of Dante’s attention.

A sound in the distance—a tourist screaming—freezes us all. The men are all suddenly ready to scatter, not wanting to get caught in the brawl. The large man, however, only has eyes for Dante.

He plunges forward as Dante stands still.

But he misses him by an inch, ripping a hole in his shirt instead.

Dante is quick to react, grabbing the man’s arm and bending it opposite of where it naturally goes. The man screams in pain and punches Dante in the face.

I’m stunned, immobile.

Once the knife drops to the ground, Dante and the man go at it. There is a flurry of fists, blood, and grunts. It’s hard to make out where one man begins and the other ends.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her,” I hear Dante say.

He gets the man in a headlock and punches him repeatedly.

“You’ll fucking pay, fucker,” he yells in time to the beat of his punches.

It looks like he’s in power position, winning and beating the beast. I exhale, yet again, but this time with more relief.

Shit. Another man, with that damn knife, looks like he has a plan. Behind Dante, he readies himself for an attack.

Fuck this. I can’t stand idly by, watching the man I love fight for his life and mine. I put him in this situation, I need to get him out.

I can fight; I’ve proven that already.

Silently, I walk towards the knife-wielding man, making sure I have a direct path to him and that he doesn’t notice me. Lining up perfectly, I run towards him, jumping on his back.

I grab onto his neck with as much strength as I have. I hear him gasping for air, the movement lifting me up and down.

He drops his knife and grabs onto my arms. He roughly jerks his body, wanting to throw me off. Hell, no.

I need a weapon. Something to get this man down. Quickly, with one hand holding onto his Adam’s apple and my nails digging into skin, I reach for my shoe.

Using my blunt heel as a weapon, I hit the man on the back of the head.

Thank God for I wore my new Louboutins today.

He buckles in response. Yes!

I continue hitting him. His head, his chest, his back…every part I have access to. He falls into submission, face-forward on the ground.

I stand above him, feeling vindicated.

Putting my shoe back on, I look around to see where Dante is, hoping he’s okay.

The large man is now on the ground, lying like the one I just beat. I smile and relax a little. The other men have left, leaving us with the harmless leftovers.

I see Dante, exhausted, standing beside his attacker. He looks at me with that same pained expression.

Without thinking, I run to him. I know he’s in pain and hurting, I see it. But I need to be with him, on him, touching and holding him.

Telling and showing him I love him.

Because I will not lose that chance…ever again.

I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He winces in pain but holds and pins me to him.

I frantically kiss him all over, leaving nothing on his face and neck untouched. I want to kiss his pain away, heal him with my love.

We gasp for air, not wanting to let each other go. Afraid of what might happen if we do.

Abruptly, I pull back.

Breathing heavily, I stare into his eyes. I feel tears well up in mine, and I refrain from hiding them, wanting to be exposed and vulnerable at this moment.

With all my sincerity and confidence, I tell him.

“I love you, Dante.”