Chapter 139

"It was Daniel who said it. I'm not sure, but it seems he's going to be adopted by the police officer who was handling his case and the boys' case."

Adopted?

Dante had made it clear he didn’t want to be adopted. He was going to wait until he turned eighteen to move on with his life. I doubted he had suddenly changed his mind. He was very firm in his word.

"That’s why you should just let go of this crush and forget it. It’s not worth getting involved in this. Did you see how dangerous they are? That stupid boy wouldn’t think twice before ripping your arm off," Kayleen continued.

But I wasn’t paying attention anymore.

My feet moved away, ignoring what I would miss from classes and the lecture my parents would give me when they found out.

There were more important things I needed to keep myself busy with.

\--

Mr. Torman’s house was at the top of the hill. My classmates used to say it was haunted because of the strange ornaments and the grayish color that was fading with the years.

I didn’t think much. I ran from school to the orphanage, but they confirmed exactly what Kayleen had said. So, I decided to walk up the street, the sun burning my skin and frying my neurons, but my focus on Dante was more important than trembling in fear over some stupid ghosts or anything like that.

Although I had already seen dead bodies.

I shook my head, sweeping away the intrusive images of the abandoned laboratory. The lack of sleep was evident in my dark circles because the only function my brain had left was to replay that day over and over again. Each day, it became easier to cope, and I supposed if I ever saw a dead person again, I’d be better prepared.

Pushing aside the voices in my head, I pressed the doorbell, its sound echoing to the outside.

No one answered.

I rang again, knocked on the door, and called Dante’s name, but nothing. The only living creatures showing signs of life were the ants climbing up my legs, which I brushed off.

It was so hard to know where Faulkner was, considering he didn’t have a phone or social media. I had a love-hate relationship with his reserved nature.

I wished I could talk to him at night. Ask him to call me and study together. But we had a fixed schedule, and when we couldn’t meet, we abandoned each other. Before, it made me angry, but now I waited fifteen minutes, and if there was no sign of him, I left.

However, after fifteen minutes under the scorching sun, Dante appeared in front of me.

He was just a blur, but as the distance between us shrank, his slender form took shape, becoming more real until he stood fully in front of me.

"What are you doing here?"

It was more an expression of anger than a question expecting an answer.

"I needed to talk to you."

"There’s nothing we need to talk about."

"Of course there is," I exclaimed indignantly. "I heard you were adopted. I wanted to know if it’s true."

Dante stared at me with fury.

"Go away, Gray," he demanded.

"Why?!" I asked. "I want to know, Dante. We’re friends, and we share these things."

He exhaled sharply.

"We’re not friends, damn it. We never were."

"Stop cursing," I pointed out. "I’ve been thinking, you know? It was hard to sleep, but then I decided I wanted to do this. I want to help you guys with whatever it is."

I saw Dante’s eyebrows arch and knit together.

"You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about." His tone was more serious, following a long pause. The hot air seemed to develop a voice of its own, muffling the sparks emanating from Faulkner. "Leave, Emília. And I won’t ask a third time."

He turned his back, pulling a key from his pocket. Dante already had access to enter and leave that house, which meant he was fully integrated with Torman. A chill ran down my spine, propelling my muscles to move toward him.

"I want to protect you, Dante," I murmured, clutching his navy-blue shirt. "I don’t know what happened, but I know being adopted by a cop could get you arrested, and you don’t deserve that."

My heart pounded as if it were building a wall of iron and bolts, hoping nothing could get through. But it was in vain.

An exotic mix of emotions began to swell as he turned, his doubts about my childishness or whatever labels they had placed on me surfacing.

But it was me.

Ever since I started observing Dante and hearing about him, I had an extraordinary desire to be the shield and knife he needed, even if I was smaller, younger, and incapable of spilling a drop of blood.

"You saw…" His voice was low. "Emília, you saw what I am."

"I know that’s not you."

"Stop this, Gray. Use your brain and leave. You have this image of me in your head that doesn’t match who I am and never will."

I tugged at his shirt again, signaling that I wouldn’t leave, even if he pushed me away.

"You’re the one who doesn’t see yourself, Dante. We had agreed that you’d show me something I didn’t know about you, and now I’ve seen it, and I still want to be your friend. Why are you pushing me away?"

Faulkner abruptly freed my hand from his shirt. He closed his eyes tightly, mentally pleading for me to vanish for good.

My chest tightened with fear—the sight of Dante rejecting me as if I were some damn worm.

"Dante…"

"Leave."

Slow.

Guttural.

Deep.

Something terrifying crept into my stomach, and I realized I was trembling.

Not out of fear of him, but of what I might lose.