Chapter 14: Secrets in the Dark

POV – Ava

The Night Was Too Silent

Dante had ordered me to bed, his eyes stormy, unreadable. But sleep never came.

Because I could feel it—the weight of something unspoken, something lurking in the shadows.

And then, I heard it.

Low voices, hushed but urgent, drifting through the penthouse halls.

I sat up, my pulse quickening.

Dante wasn’t alone.

Slipping from the bed, I moved carefully across the room. The voices were coming from down the hall, from the study.

Dante’s voice—low, tense.

And another.

Magnus.

My breath hitched. Dante would never allow Magnus into his home. So why was he here now?

And what the hell were they talking about?

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A Conversation Not Meant for Me

(Dante’s POV)

The study was dim, the firelight casting long shadows that flickered against the bookshelves.

The scent of aged leather and burning wood filled the space, but the air between us was colder than the night beyond the window.

I stood rigid, arms crossed, every muscle in my body coiled tight.

Magnus, in contrast, looked completely at ease. He leaned against my bookshelves like he owned the place, swirling the whiskey in his glass with slow, deliberate movements. His dark eyes gleamed with something between amusement and warning.

“You need to let her go, Dante,” he said, his voice smooth, almost casual. “Before it’s too late.”

My jaw tensed.

“She’s mine,” I said, my voice quiet but edged with finality.

Magnus smirked. “And yet, you still haven’t told her the truth.”

I turned away, walking toward the desk, gripping the edge of it so tightly my knuckles ached.

My reflection in the glass of the window was nothing but a shadowed outline, a fractured image of the man I used to be.

The truth.

That Ava was tied to a fate neither of us could escape. That no matter how much I tried to protect her, she was already caught in the web of something far greater, far darker.

I exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away.

“That’s why you’re here?” I muttered, voice low. “To lecture me about things you don’t understand?”

Magnus chuckled, the sound like a blade dragging against stone.

“I understand more than you think.” He took a slow sip before setting the glass down with an intentional clink.

“I’m the one who cursed your bloodline, after all.”

The words landed like a blow to my chest.

The fire crackled. The wind howled outside.

And for a moment, silence hung between us, thick and suffocating.

Then I moved.

Fast.

Violent.

In the blink of an eye, I had him against the wall, my hand locked around his throat. The bookshelves trembled from the impact, dust falling like embers in the low light.

“You should choose your next words very carefully,” I growled. My grip tightened. I could hear his pulse, steady and unbothered beneath my palm.

Magnus didn’t flinch. His lips curled into something resembling a smile.

“You think I fear you, boy?” he murmured, voice calm, almost amused. “You forget who I am.”

I bared my teeth. “I haven’t forgotten a damn thing.”

His eyes gleamed. “Then you know how this ends.”

And then, a shift in the air.

A whisper of movement just outside the room.

I stiffened.

Ava.

She was there.

Listening.

Damn it.

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The First Vampire

(Ava’s POV)

I barely managed to keep from gasping.

Magnus cursed Dante’s bloodline?

I pressed my back against the wall, heart hammering.

Magnus wasn’t just another vampire. He was the First Vampire.

I’d heard whispers of legends, of an ancient being who was responsible for the first blood curse. But I never imagined—never even considered—that Dante was tied to him.

And worse?

Dante had never told me.

I swallowed hard, trying to process everything, but my pulse was racing too fast.

I needed answers.

And if Dante wouldn’t give them to me, I’d find them myself.

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The Forbidden Room

I moved before I could second-guess myself.

Slipping down the hall, I entered his private study—the place I had always been forbidden from.

A fire crackled in the hearth, throwing flickering shadows across the bookshelves. And there, on his desk, was an ancient book lying open.

I hesitated.

I knew I shouldn’t.

But I stepped forward anyway.

And then—I saw it.

A painting.

An ancient one.

The woman in the artwork had flowing dark hair, her eyes burning with an intensity that made my breath catch.

Because they were my eyes.

Her face—my face.

A woman who looked exactly like me.

And the painting was centuries old.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as they grazed the page.

What the hell was this?

And why had Dante been hiding it from me?

I couldn’t breathe.

The painting stared back at me, the woman’s eyes hauntingly familiar. My eyes.

But this wasn’t possible.

The artwork was ancient, the paint cracked with age, the parchment yellowed with time.

And yet…

She was me.

A chill rolled down my spine as I ran my fingers over the delicate lines of her face. The resemblance was uncanny. The slope of her jaw, the arch of her brows, the fullness of her lips—it was me in every way except one.

Her eyes.

There was something older, wiser, sadder in her gaze, like she had seen things no one should have. Like she knew something I didn’t.

I swallowed hard.

Behind me, the door creaked.

I stiffened.

And then a voice, low and full of warning.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Ava.”

Dante.