Chapter 188

I wasn't sure how to respond because, in the meantime, the professor was focused on me and clearly noticed that I wasn't paying attention.

I put my phone away, knowing that I would deal with the consequence of not replying later. But replaying the conversation in my head made me want to burst out laughing.

That idiot had bought a phone and watched tutorials to learn how to talk to me. It was funny to see a homicidal criminal, who had no shame in killing, using laughing emojis.

However, this feeling left me confused. Dante was my opponent. He was the reason for the disaster in my life and the reason I was burning with the desire to commit a crime as well. To end his life. So, how could I let him keep taking root inside me?

If I made the same mistake I made four years ago, it would be the end for me. There wouldn't be any trace of my heart, and it would never beat again.

My lungs inhaled cement, weighing on each of the chambers.

I couldn’t go back to being an idiot.

The sound of the siren broke the atmosphere and caused frightened, confused sighs from the people in the room.

They stared at each other, disoriented.

"Acalmem-se!" the professor shouted. "It must be some sort of drill."

But the siren didn’t stop, and a few seconds later, some screams and fast footsteps made us get up and grab our things. It was too late to ask for order when the door was opened, and a gray cloud distorted our vision.

It was fire.

Our building was burning.

I wasn’t sure where the fire was coming from, but the dense smoke was close. My trachea burned, and I had to cough severely to keep my lungs from obstructing. Asthma would attack me if I stayed there, but I didn’t really know where to go.

My chest was being hosted by something I shouldn't have been.

The panic, the violent running, the pushing, and kicking of the students left me behind. I couldn’t see and barely breathed.

I tried to lean against the wall, mentally mapping out a route to get outside, but it wasn’t enough. My reasoning was clouded.

God.

I hated that my need for oxygen sometimes left me out of control. It felt like I was dying with every breath. Like the disease was invisible fingers breaking my throat little by little, not letting any air reach my bronchi.

It started with aggressive hyperventilation. The sobs grew louder. I couldn’t hear anything but my mouth gasping for air. For help. For life.

I couldn’t feel any part of my body anymore except my lungs deflating, my chest bursting in strong waves, coursing through my body, begging for the blood to carry whatever oxygen was left. But it was running out.

There was nothing left.

And I was dying little by little.

Until my eyes grew tired.

My eyelids became heavy, and all I saw was darkness grabbing me by the neck and taking me with it.

***

Inside my head, there was a battle.

All my blood was rushing to my skull, heating up until it was enough to melt it. It was an absurd pain, to the point that it wouldn’t let me open my eyes without crushing them over and over again.

I gritted my teeth, biting my lower lip and rolling my fingers over some soft object I seemed to be sitting on.

I was moving.

For some reason, I was being moved.

Led.

Was I in a car?

I tried to open my eyes, blinking and shaking my head. My body ached, especially my chest. I had to exhale and inhale calmly because any sudden movement hurt my lungs.

It took endless seconds before I straightened up and realized I was sitting on a seat, someone breathing comfortably next to me.

"How were the classes? Did you learn a lot?"

My forehead wrinkled. I scanned the surroundings.

I was in his car, on the road.

"What the hell?" I snapped, rubbing my face. "Where are we going?"

"Home."

"But the university… Olympus was on fire." Forcing the memories made my brain ache.

"It was just your building."

I blinked.

And blinked again.

I squinted, thoughtfully putting the puzzle pieces together.

"You set the damn health building on fire?" I asked.

I watched him shrug, still calm as he drove his new car.

"They were getting in the way of my plans."

"What plans?"

"You."

His serious face and the guttural tone of that single word made my heart squeeze. In moments, anger wreaked havoc in my veins, and it felt like each one of them burst through my cheeks.

"Dante, for God's sake! I could have died!" I shouted, distressed by his confession with no hint of remorse.

"You wouldn’t have died," he growled.

"But others could have! Oh my God, don’t tell me..."

"No one died." His voice, laced with fury, sent shivers down my spine. Dante spoke as if it was unlucky there weren’t any victims. "They were wasting my time."

"What time?!"

"You weren’t answering me."

My mouth hung open, with no vowel to be pronounced explaining my empty reaction. I was expressing everything I felt without being able to articulate it.

"You set my damn university on fire because I wasn’t answering your messages?"

His jaw tightened.

"Sleep. You’re talking too much," he muttered, still focused on the road.

Blood boiled in my system.

"Talking too much? Dante, you can’t solve things like this."

"But I did, so I don’t want lessons on how I should do what I want," he grunted, turning onto the dirt road in the middle of the forest.

We were heading home.

"Sometimes, you act like you're a god."

"And you, like a spoiled child."

"Me?" I screamed, outraged. "It was you who bought a phone thinking you could track my every move."

I heard the snap of his mouth right after he stopped the car in the middle of the road.

I violently got out, and Dante followed. He had no idea how to behave like a normal human being.

"Come back."

"No," I snapped, following the path I already knew by heart.

"Emília."

"I’m not going! You don’t control me."

"Emília Gray. Get. In. The. Car. Now."

I turned around, clenching my fist.

"Please." His gaze narrowed. "Say please."

He sighed as I showed him a toothy smile. Faulkner had a difficulty, as if it were a disease in his mind, not knowing how to act with affectionate words.

"Emília."

My name was repeated by him more times than I had ever heard.

"Say it, and I will."

"If you don’t mind having that nice ass of yours in the seat of my car in three seconds, without opening that stubborn mouth to annoy me, I will make your body know what pain is in the right places." My body tensed. "You’re not making me pissed off, believe me, Gray. You’re making me hard, and it’s not something you’re asking to see, right?"

I shook my head, unsure of what to say.

His fingers intertwined in his hair, tired and tense.

"Get in. Now. Please."

And in less than three seconds, I was sitting in that car again.

Dante got in right after, inhaling deeply and demonstrating how everything in his body was chaotically mechanized. Nothing was functioning correctly.

"What do you want me to do?"

I widened my eyes, disoriented.

"What do you mean?"

He pressed his fingers against the steering wheel, thoughtful.

"What do you want me to do to make up for the fire?" My silence was making him nervous. "Say something, Gray."

"Are you sorry?"

"Of course not," he growled. "But you’re pissed off, and I don’t have the patience to deal with this."

"You’re never sorry for what you do, have you noticed?"

"Yes."

I clicked my tongue at his casualness. It was too complex for me to have a working brain to help him.

"We will talk like two civilians when you learn to act like a normal person. Have a basic relationship. Know how to use words instead of hunting for a weapon or trying to kill students and teachers just because someone didn’t respond to your messages," I said.

His face was deep in thought. Dante was considering something. His fingers danced on the steering wheel, creating a methodical and unbearable rhythm. But I let him reflect and come to a conclusion about whatever it was.

"Fine."

My forehead wrinkled.

"Fine?"

"That’s what I said."

Dante didn’t hesitate, putting the car back in motion and continuing toward home.

I was confused and curious to know what was going on in that head.

I didn’t understand him. And every time I tried to understand, it made the situation worse.

"Answer me whenever I send you messages," he asked. Before I could oppose his demand, he continued, "I need to know you’re still alive."

My brain clicked.

"You should’ve just said it was for my protection. It would have been easier."

Dante scrutinized me intensely.

"It’s not for your protection. I just don’t want to clean up your corpse. Another Gray on the list could seem like an obsession."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes.

When the car stopped and he took off his seatbelt, his voice echoed again.

"Later, when you’re done spending my money, give me the credit card back."

"I hope I’ve spent it all," I replied passively, trying not to hesitate.

He turned to me.

"You spent 100 thousand dollars on an online auction for a Bach violin composition, hair products, combs of various sizes, accessories, and sweets," Dante listed.

I smiled.

"And another three thousand for food and toys for Shakespeare."

"You only spent that? I expected more from you."

"How much money do you have in your account?" I asked curiously.

"Enough not to need any other man besides me."

This time, a glimpse of a smile appeared on his mouth.

My stomach churned as he made his way to the door of the house. I moved closer, with my heart racing inside me.

"The password for your card was my birthdate."

He opened the door.

"I know. I told you."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

The indifference in his voice made me furious.

"Why the hell is your password my birthday?"

He muttered a curse under his breath.

"You ask too much."

"I? You do senseless things and leave me confused," I confided, more than I wanted to.

Dante examined me, and the way I avoided his gaze was a clear clue.

"Look at me, Gray."

Stubbornly, I lifted my head. His two dark orbs were mapping me. They were pleading for something.

"You’re easy to remember," he continued. "I think my brain works better when it thinks of you."

My chest tightened.

Something strange in me reacted strongly, causing my organs to disintegrate. That I fragmented.