44

The kiss ended, but its weight lingered between us, thick and unspoken.

Dante pulled back just enough for me to feel the loss, but not enough to escape the heat of him.

His thumb brushed my bottom lip, his touch possessive, claiming.

"Still pretending?" he murmured.

My breath was uneven, my heart a chaotic drum against my ribs.

I wanted to shove him away.

I wanted to pull him closer.

The war inside me raged, but Dante… Dante had already won.

Because this wasn't about power anymore.

It was about him.

And the terrifying way he made me feel.

The next few days blurred together in a tangled mess of silence and fire.

Dante was everywhere.

Watching.

Waiting.

Pushing.

And I hated that part of me waited for him, too.

One night, I sat by the window, watching the moon bleed silver across the endless stretch of trees.

My cage was beautiful.

Deadly.

Unescapable.

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

Not Dante.

He never knocked.

"Luca," I muttered as he stepped inside.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, gaze assessing.

"You look like hell," he said.

I laughed, bitter and sharp. "What, the kidnapping not working for my aesthetic?"

Luca sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

"You know why he’s doing this."

I tensed. "Because he’s insane?"

"Because he loves you."

I froze.

No.

No, Dante didn't love.

Dante possessed.

Dante claimed.

Dante destroyed.

I shook my head. "You don’t know what you're talking about."

Luca exhaled, stepping closer. "Dante has never let anyone in. Not fully. Not until you."

I swallowed hard. "And that justifies this?"

"No," Luca said softly. "But it explains it."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "So what, I should be grateful?"

Luca hesitated.

Then, with something almost like pity in his eyes, he murmured.

"I think you're just as fucked as he is."

Dante was waiting for me when I returned to the bedroom.

The second I stepped inside, I felt it.

The storm brewing inside him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on his knees, his fingers interlaced.

Dark eyes burned into mine.

"Did Luca upset you?" he asked.

I scoffed. "Would it matter?"

Dante's gaze darkened. "Everything about you matters."

A shiver danced down my spine.

I crossed my arms. "Then let me go."

His jaw clenched. "You think I don’t want to?"

I hesitated.

Dante stood, crossing the space between us with unrelenting purpose.

His fingers brushed my cheek, slow, reverent.

"If I let you go," he whispered, "you’ll run."

I swallowed. "And?"

His lips ghosted over my temple.

"And I'd have to burn the world down to bring you back."

Days passed, but the fire between us only grew.

It was a slow, suffocating thing.

A war neither of us wanted to end.

One night, I woke up to find Dante sitting at the foot of the bed, his head bowed, his hands gripping his knees.

Moonlight sliced across his features, turning him into something almost tragic.

I sat up. "Dante?"

His eyes met mine, heavy with something I didn’t understand.

"You undo me, Aurora."

The words stole my breath.

Because they weren’t a confession.

They were a warning.

And I had never been more terrified of what that meant.

I should run.

That’s what any sane person would do.

But I wasn’t sane.

And Dante… Dante was a storm I couldn’t escape from.

I could feel his presence before I even saw him. The thick electricity in the air, the heat radiating from him even when the room was cold.

It was dark when I turned in bed and saw him there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

I should scream.

But all I did was stare back.

"You need to stop this." My voice came out low, more hesitant than I would have liked.

"Stop what?" The corner of his mouth lifted in something that wasn’t quite a smile, but a silent challenge.

"This." I pointed at him, at the way he looked at me like I was something precious and, at the same time, something he wanted to break.

Dante laughed, a low, humorless sound.

"You act like I have a choice."

I got up, crossing my arms to hide the trembling in my hands.

"You do. You always have."

He walked toward me slowly, every step a warning.

"No, Aurora." His voice dropped to something almost dangerous. "From the moment you entered my life, I had no choice."

A shiver ran down my spine.

Dante reached out, his fingers brushing my chin before I had a chance to pull away.

"I tried to fight this." His dark eyes locked onto mine. "But you made me weak."

My heart pounded so hard I feared he could hear it.

"If I’m your weakness, then let me go."

Dante smiled, but there was nothing kind about it.

"You still don’t get it, do you?" He tilted his head, as if studying me. "I’d rather be weak than live without you."

The following days were a game of resistance.

Dante was always near, his presence a constant reminder that my freedom no longer existed.

But something was different.

He wasn’t just keeping me here.

He was waiting.

I just didn’t know for what.

Then, on a night when the storm raged outside, I got my answer.

I was sitting in the armchair near the fireplace, hugging my arms when the door opened.

Dante entered without haste, but his expression was weighted with something heavy.

"I need you to trust me."

I laughed, humorless. "Funny, because if there’s one thing I would never do, it’s that."

Dante ignored my response.

"I won’t let anyone hurt you."

That made me pause.

My eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

He hesitated.

And Dante never hesitated.

"I’ve made enemies."

My stomach sank. "Enemies who want to hurt me?"

His eyes darkened. "Enemies who want to take you from me."

There were so many things wrong with those words, but before I could respond, a sound echoed from outside.

Dante moved fast. In the blink of an eye, he was at the window, watching the shadows outside.

"Stay here."

"Not a chance."

He shot me a sharp look, but I was already on my feet.

"If I’m going to die today, I’d rather know what’s coming."

Dante cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair before pulling me behind him.

The sound came again.

And then, chaos exploded.

The window glass shattered as something—someone—broke through the door.

Dante reacted fast, pulling a gun from the holster at his waist.

But not fast enough.

The blow came before he could fire, striking him in the side and slamming him against the wall.

I screamed.

A hand closed around my arm, yanking me forward.

"Finally, we found you."

The man’s voice was cold, carrying something that made my stomach churn.

"Let her go," Dante growled, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

The man just laughed.

"You really thought you could keep her locked away forever?"

Dante moved.

The gunshot echoed before I could even scream.

The man holding me staggered back, blood staining his dark shirt.

My breath was short, erratic.

Another sound.

Another shot.

Dante was on him before his body hit the ground.

And then, silence.

I barely registered when Dante came to me, his hands gripping my face, his eyes wild.

"Are you okay?"

I didn’t know how to answer.

Because while everything inside me screamed that I should be scared, there was something stronger seeping into the fear.

Something dangerous.

Something that made me want to hold onto him and never let go.

"Dante…" My voice faltered.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if fighting an internal battle.

And then, he pulled me against him.

His heart pounded against mine.

"I told you I would never let anyone hurt you."

My hands clung to his shirt, my breath uneven.

"Then why do I still feel in danger?"

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes burning with something primal.

"Because you are."

The following days were different.

The attack had changed something.

Dante didn’t relax for a second, staying close to me in a way that made my chest tighten.

And then came the night I would never forget.

I was lying down, the room swallowed in shadows, when I felt it.

The heat.

The presence.

I turned and found Dante sitting at the edge of the bed.

His eyes were locked on mine, his expression raw, defenseless.

"I almost lost you," he murmured.

I swallowed hard.

"But you didn’t."

Dante leaned in, his forehead resting against mine.

"Don’t test me, Aurora."

My breath hitched.

He lifted his head, his mouth hovering over mine.

"You want to run?" His voice was a rough whisper. "Go."

My heart skipped a beat.

"But if you stay…" His fingers trailed down to my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"If you stay, you’ll be mine."

I should have said no.

But when he kissed me, I knew I was lost.