Chapter 132

**Seven years ago**

“Now you can leave.”

Dante remained paralyzed, his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, his hair tinted in oil, blowing in the autumn wind crossing the street.

My house was big. My parents had enough money to buy a huge home in this small town. Of course, it was surprising, but to me, it was just unnecessary.

“Why are you treating me like I'm a dog?”

“I wouldn’t treat a dog like that. I think it would be better.”

Dante raised his eyebrows.

“You’re being quite funny.”

“A little bit,” I joked, smiling. “But now, go away.”

“Why?”

“I’m home now. It’s better if you don’t stick around.”

Faulkner stared at me for a few seconds.

“You seem scared,” he said. His steps closed the distance between us. I shivered. “I wonder why?”

“I just don’t want problems.”

“Why would we have problems? Don’t your parents like you having friends?”

I swallowed dryly.

“Dante, leave.”

He ignored me.

“I asked a simple question that deserves a simple answer,” he demanded.

“You know…”

Dante scanned me from head to toe, his black irises searching for an opening.

A chill ran through my bones, shaking my foundation and rattling my mind.

“Am I your little secret, Gray? Or am I playing hide and seek without knowing?” he asked, thoughtful.

“None of that.”

“Do you like anyone? A boyfriend?”

“No!” I immediately cut in. The words got stuck in my throat, shy and fearful, but I forced them out: “I just like being with you.”

I wanted to bury myself in a hole after the confession, but Dante seemed not to care.

“That Daniel...?”

I squinted my eyes.

“What about Daniel?”

Faulkner studied my face, then shrugged and turned back to admire the house, maintaining his stance.

“He likes you.”

“He doesn’t like me,” I countered. “Where did you get that from?”

Dante shrugged. He cut the conversation short as if I were supposed to understand the order of thoughts in his mind.

“Daniel talks a lot. He’s really annoying, actually. He’s a gossipy friend. He always talks about you and the guys.” Dante examined me curiously. “But he’s a nice guy.”

“I don’t want to hear you praise him in front of me,” I sighed.

“I’m not praising him. I’m stating facts.”

“Keep those facts to yourself,” I ordered, straightening my back.

“But…”

I spotted a gray car reappearing at the end of the road. My heart started pounding loudly, and my complexion shifted with the shock.

“Dante, go away. Please,” I begged. “My dad’s there and…”

He turned his head in the direction my eyes were glued to. However, his feet planted themselves on the ground. Desperation ran through my veins, so I pulled him between the wall and the trees, making sure my dad wouldn’t see me when he got out of the car.

Dante followed it with his gaze until the door opened, and he entered the house. When the lock clicked and the security returned, his face took on a different expression. His lines deepened, and I saw traces of anger reflecting in every inch.

“I thought you were joking.” A question mark appeared on my forehead, but he continued: “How fake is your friendship, Emília?”

“It’s not fake, but…”

“Say something that doesn’t involve a ‘but,’ Gray,” he snapped.

“Maybe I’ll use a better word.”

He was about to leave, but I stopped him.

“Dante! Wait. Let’s talk.”

“Do your parents talk about me to you?”

“No. The whole town talks about how violent you are and…” I swallowed hard. “A killer.”

There was a strange pause in his breathing.

“You believe the rumors,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Besides being afraid of me, you’re ashamed.”

I shook my head in denial, trying to contradict every word.

“No! I don’t want trouble for you.”

Dante laughed awkwardly.

“I’m not afraid of the consequences. I have nothing to lose.”

“Just because no one cares about you, doesn’t mean I don’t care!” I exclaimed, my throat breaking.

“Don’t talk like you know anything about me.”

Dante reacted immediately. The anger emanating from him pushed my body back, causing me to stumble and land on my backside.

I bit my lip to suppress the pain and leveled our gazes. In reflection, I noticed how Dante’s eyes registered something that hurt him, and once again, he laughed sarcastically through his nose.

Faulkner gave no room for more conversation, and without bothering to help me up, he turned his back.

I didn’t know what to think, but I irrationally got to my feet and yelled with all my lungs: “I’ve been watching you for a long time. My best friend says I’m crazy for wanting to be your friend, but I’ve always wanted to get to know you! And you don’t let me. You keep hiding things from me and, yes, it scares me a little.”

Dante froze, and I took the chance to catch my breath, regaining my dignity.

I had been watching Dante since the first time I saw him at the park, and they warned me about the danger he exuded. How those hands that held the American football could have killed someone. How he had been cold enough not to just be a knife.

It was several.

In sync.

And I couldn’t contain the image of blood pouring from every inch of his clothes and the malice taking away the smallest breath from the kidnapper.

But the truth is, no one really knows what happened. What made Dante become a lone boy, completely at the mercy of what life wants from him. Therefore, I wanted to know the truth.

Who Dante Faulkner really was.

“People say I killed someone,” he said, turning to face me again.

My bones tingled, but I managed to keep my posture.

“You said in the woods you wanted me alive.”

His feet moved.

“What if I change my mind?”

I swallowed hard.

“I’ll change my mind about you too.”

“What if I just want you for a wicked purpose?”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting someone close, because I do too. Maybe I have a reason to want to keep you for myself.”

The confession came out so fast I couldn’t swallow it. It was like the little dignity I had left slipped between my fingers like sand.

Dante didn’t show any disturbance, but his voice turned hoarse and cruel.

“Those thoughts you have about me… You shouldn’t say them out loud.”

I swallowed again.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not something a girl like you should say to a guy like me.”

“But it’s how I feel.”

“And what you shouldn’t feel.”

I didn’t like how he wanted to control my feelings.

“You can’t control what you feel.”

Dante laughed.

“Everyone can. They just don’t want to.”

I shook my head, stepping away.

“You just haven’t discovered something worth feeling even if you can’t.”

Dante looked at me as if challenging me.

There were no words to describe the magnitude of things that should have been said. Faulkner had a lot to hide. I could feel it in my bones, like ice sliding over them. And I had so much to feel. So much to offer Dante, with all the fantasy that rose in my mind before I fell asleep.

I wanted him as a friend. I wanted him close to me always. And I wanted to believe it was reciprocated with the same intensity.

“Emília Gray…” His name came out in mockery, the laugh playing between the syllables. “But who are you that, stepping into the darkness of the night, stumbles into my deepest thoughts?”

No words left my mouth.

Dante had touched a part of me that had clearly become his.

I couldn’t believe he would have recited Romeo and Juliet.

That ignited a flame in my stomach and fed the butterflies that already lived there.

My senses fell into chaotic harmony. I was going to faint. My God, I was feeling more than I wanted.

“Did I shake you?” he asked arrogantly. “That’s the problem, Emília. I may not feel anything, but I know how to make you feel, and it shouldn’t happen.”

My heart was failing over and over. It couldn’t do its job because Dante was messing with one of the few things that a human being could do involuntarily.

“You’re wrong,” I said, nervously.

He sighed.

“Your stubbornness is a pain in the ass.” His hands went back into his pockets. “I’ll show you my true self, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Don’t say you regret it later. I’m locking you forever in my life. You’re signing your death sentence.”

He didn’t check if I followed when he started to walk.

But I did.

I always did.