Chapter 11 Whispered Warnings
Micah POV
I hadn’t expected to see her today. Not here. Not now. Yet, there she was Alison leaning casually against the gym entrance, arms crossed, that half-smile that always made me want to run and hide, even when no one else was around. My stomach twisted as soon as our eyes met, because I knew exactly why she was here. Her gaze slid over me like a slow inspection, lingering in all the wrong places. “Well, well… if it isn’t Brooks,” she said, voice dripping with mock warmth. “Adjusting to dorm life already? Or are you still figuring out which side of King’s University frightens you more?”
I froze mid-step, heart thumping so loud I was sure she could hear it. My bag hung heavy on my shoulder, suddenly a burden I didn’t want. I swallowed, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “I’m… doing fine,” I managed, voice steadier than I felt. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, sharp and dangerous. “Good to know,” she said, taking a step closer, and I instinctively took one back. Her perfume hit me then—a sweet, floral warning, almost sickly in its intensity and I realized just how unprepared I was for this confrontation.
“You know,” she began, tilting her head as if about to share a secret meant only for me, “Dante’s not… exactly what people think he is.” I tensed, hands clenching the strap of my bag. My mind screamed to scan the gym for him, for any sign that he might appear and intervene, but I knew Dante too well. He didn’t panic. He didn’t rush. He would watch. And he always, always made me wish he wouldn’t.
Alison leaned a little closer, lowering her voice so the words brushed against my ear. “He’s charming… oh yes, devilishly so—but watch yourself, Brooks. Men like him… they’ve left more than a few broken hearts in their wake.” My pulse spiked. I felt my stomach drop. “I… thanks,” I said, voice tight. My throat felt raw, my hands shaking slightly as I gripped my bag. “I can handle myself.”
She chuckled softly, that low sound that always set my nerves on edge. “I hope you can,” she whispered, letting her words hang between us, thick and sticky. “But remember… he doesn’t let people go easily. Once he wants something or someone…” She let the sentence trail, letting the implication settle, suffocating in the air. I could barely breathe.
I turned instinctively, scanning for Dante. And, of course, there he was leaning against the doorway of the far gym, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but eyes burning with something I couldn’t name. The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly. Satisfaction. I felt exposed, small, under the weight of his gaze. My throat went dry. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to flee to the safety of the suite, to hide. But Alison wasn’t finished.
“You must be careful,” she continued, stepping a little closer despite the distance between us. Her voice softened, honey coated danger. “He’s intense… more than you can imagine. And I’ve seen it… firsthand.” My hands tightened on my bag. My knees felt weak. My chest constricted.
Every word she spoke seemed to etch itself onto my skin, making me hyper-aware of my heartbeat, my breathing, and most dangerously, Dante watching quietly from across the room.
I swallowed hard, trying to respond without sounding like a deer caught in headlights. “I… I appreciate the warning.” The words tasted like ash. Alison tilted her head, eyes sharp. “Warnings are good, but experience…” She paused, letting the silence claw at me. “Well, sometimes you learn too late.” The words felt like ice sliding down my spine. I nodded, barely able to meet her gaze.
I had no idea if she meant it as a threat or… something else.
Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle tightening at the edge of his jaw, though his posture remained casual. I couldn’t read him, he was always three steps ahead, always watching but I could feel it. The way he was watching her watching me. He didn’t move. He didn’t intervene. He just… waited. And that was worse than anything Alison could say.
“You and he…” Alison whispered, leaning just a little closer. “Be careful what you give him. And what you take.” I blinked, confused, heart racing.
“I… what do you mean?” I asked, though my voice trembled. She gave a knowing smile, one that made my stomach twist. “Some people don’t just want your body, Brooks… sometimes they want the rest of you too.” She straightened suddenly, stepping back, putting her arms over her chest like a shield. “Think about that.”
Before I could respond, she pivoted gracefully and strode toward the exit, heels clicking on the gym floor. I felt both relief and panic as the sound faded. The tension didn’t leave; it doubled, spiraling in on itself. I glanced back toward Dante.
He was still there. Watching. Waiting. His eyes held something satisfaction, maybe pride, maybe a quiet warning of his own. My throat went dry again. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, to escape but to where?
I felt small, vulnerable, exposed in a way I hadn’t felt before. Alison’s words replayed in my mind: “Sometimes you learn too late.” And I couldn’t stop imagining what Dante had seen her, standing there, whispering warnings and what he thought about me hearing them. My stomach twisted with a mixture of fear, embarrassment, and… something else. Desire. The way he watched me, that quiet, unshakable focus, it was intoxicating and terrifying at once.
By the time I made my way out of the gym, the campus was already dimming into evening. I walked fast, trying to shake the sensation of being hunted by eyes I couldn’t escape. But Dante’s presence clung to me, silent and omnipresent, like a shadow I couldn’t outrun. I caught myself glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see him following. The truth was worse, he wasn’t following. He was already everywhere. He was mine, even when he wasn’t there.
Back at the suite, I found him sitting in the living room, reading something on his laptop, posture casual, like he hadn’t just watched a minor psychological ambush unfold in front of me. I froze in the doorway. My bag slipped from my shoulder and landed with a soft thud. He didn’t look up immediately. And when he finally did, that slow, deliberate smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to call him out. Instead, my chest tightened, heat rushing through me, a wild, uncontrollable mixture of humiliation and… something dangerous.
“You’re late,” he said softly, not accusing, just stating fact, as if he already knew what had happened. I shuffled closer, avoiding eye contact, feeling like a kid caught between playground rules and grown-up chaos. “I… ran into someone,” I said, voice small. He raised an eyebrow, closing the laptop slowly. “Alison,” he said, one word, and I knew he didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“I… she just she said some things,” I stammered, twisting the strap of my bag. His gaze dropped to my hands, then back to my face, slow, deliberate, almost like a predator measuring its prey. “Did she scare you?” His voice was low, calm, but every syllable pressed against my nerves. I shook my head, though the lie tasted bitter. “No,” I whispered. “Not really.”
He stood, stepping closer, the distance between us suddenly collapsing. I could feel his warmth, his presence, his control. “Good,” he said softly, and the word carried weight I couldn’t place.
“Because no one scares me when it comes to you.” My stomach dropped, throat tightening, heart hammering. My mind screamed at me to pull back, but my body betrayed me. I wanted him closer. I wanted him watching. I wanted… everything and nothing all at once.
He lingered, just a breath away, watching me like he had from the moment he walked into the gym that day. The satisfaction in his eyes was undeniable, and I felt exposed, pinned by the heat of his gaze. Alison’s warning still echoed in my mind, but I couldn’t stop the magnetic pull I felt toward him. My lips parted, words caught somewhere in my chest. And in that quiet, heavy moment, I realized something terrifying. I was already under his control. Already caught.
Already… his.
Dante didn’t speak again. He just let me feel it the weight of his presence, the power of his observation, the quiet thrill of his satisfaction. I wanted to run. I wanted to fight. And yet, I stayed, rooted, heart racing, body trembling, mind scrambling to process the delicious, terrifying certainty: He’s already won. And he knows it.