Chapter 6 - The Eyes of MiaThe wooden door of Apartment 3B opened with a soft, familiar creak.
My neighbor Kate stood in the small entryway, holding a wooden spoon, her eyes widening in total, speech-bound shock as she saw me step inside, flanked by a six-foot-four man in a dark wool coat whose presence commanded the entire hallway.
"Claire...!" Kate gasped. "Are you okay?! The news said there was a shooting near the hospital—"
"I'm fine, Kate," I smiled tiredly, stepping past her. "Thank you for watching her."
From the small living room near the window, a bright, melodic voice echoed through the apartment.
"Mommy!"
Six-year-old Mia came running down the hallway, wearing her bright yellow raincoat and little red rain boots, holding a plastic toy horse in her small hand.
She skidded to a sudden stop three feet from the doorway, her wide, dark brown eyes locking onto the tall man standing beside me.
Dante froze.
The most feared crime lord in Seattle—a man who had survived three gunshot wounds, built a multi-million-dollar empire, and commanded six hundred armed men—went completely, breathlessly still.
He dropped onto his knees flat on the wooden floorboards before her, completely ignoring the sharp, agonizing stab of his fractured ribs, his storm-dark eyes searching her small, beautiful face.
He saw his own dark hair. He saw his own jawline. And most of all... he saw his exact dark brown eyes looking back at him with pure, innocent curiosity.
"Hi," Mia whispered softly, tilting her head, clutching her toy horse against her yellow raincoat. "Are you the man who was hurt at Mommy's hospital?"
Tears flooded Dante’s dark eyes—real, unadulterated tears that spilled down his scarred cheeks without shame. His hands trembled as he reached out, carefully, reverently taking her tiny, warm hand into his broad palm.
"Yes, sweetheart," Dante rasped out, his voice cracking with a deep, weightless joy that echoed through the small apartment. "I am... I'm an old friend of your mommy's."
Mia looked at his silver temples, then at the scar along his jawline, then turned her head toward me.
"Mommy," Mia asked brightly, "does he know about Moonlight?"
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I wiped a tear from my cheek, stepping forward, resting my hand gently over Dante’s broad shoulder.
"Yes, Mia," I smiled softly, looking down into the dark brown eyes we shared. "He knows all about Moonlight."
