Morning came with no mercy.
Light spilled through the hotel curtains, cutting across Ava's bare skin, and reality pressed down like a weight.
She sat up slowly, clutching the sheets around her. Dante was already awake, lounging against the headboard, one arm draped casually across his lap. His eyes followed her every movement.
"Don't look at me like that," she muttered, running a shaky hand through her hair.
"Like what?" His voice was lazy, smooth — but there was steel beneath it.
"Like you… own me."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "That's because I do."
Her stomach tightened. "No. You don't."
He leaned forward, brushing his thumb against her jaw with disarming gentleness. "Keep telling yourself that, Ava. If it makes you feel better."
Her breath caught. She hated that her body betrayed her every time he touched her — hated that she wanted him even as her mind screamed to run.
She slid out of bed, gathering her clothes quickly. "This can't keep happening."
Dante didn't argue. He didn't have to. The look in his eyes said everything.
And that terrified her more than anything.
By the time she made it home, the city was awake and alive, the streets buzzing with Monday chaos. Ava shut her apartment door behind her and leaned against it, exhausted.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. She almost didn't check it, expecting another message from Dante.
But when she picked it up, her heart nearly stopped.
1 New Message: Ethan.
Her ex.
The man she'd caught in bed with her best friend.
She stared at the screen, bile rising in her throat. Why now?
Before she could decide whether to delete it, the phone buzzed again.
We need to talk.
Her hands shook as she typed back. There's nothing left to say.
The reply came instantly. Please. Just one chance to explain. Meet me tonight. Carter's, 8pm.
Her first instinct was to refuse. But anger churned in her gut. Maybe she deserved to hear what pathetic excuse he had prepared. Maybe she deserved the closure.
With trembling fingers, she typed: Fine. One time. That's it.
Carter's bar hadn't changed since the night her world had unraveled. Same neon sign, same sticky floor, same smell of whiskey and regret.
Ethan was already there, sitting at their old booth, looking annoyingly polished. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his smile practiced — but his eyes were nervous, darting toward the door as she approached.
"Ava," he said, standing quickly. "You look… amazing."
She slid into the booth, arms crossed. "Get to the point."
He winced, sitting across from her. "I screwed up. I know that. But Claire—she meant nothing. It was a mistake, Ava. You're the one I love."
A bitter laugh escaped her. "Do you have any idea how pathetic that sounds? You betrayed me with my best friend. Don't you dare say it meant nothing."
His jaw tightened. "I panicked. I didn't know how to end things with her without—"
"Without what? Without climbing into her bed?" Ava's voice shook with furious.
Heads turned at nearby tables. Ethan lowered his voice, reaching for her hand. "I miss you. I want to fix things."
She yanked her hand back. "There's nothing to fix. You don't get to cheat and then beg for forgiveness like I'm supposed to forget it."
For the first time, his expression darkened. "You've changed," he said flatly. "You weren't this cold before."
Her chest tightened, but she forced her chin up. "No. You just never noticed me until I stopped letting you walk all over me."
The argument might have ended there. She might have walked away, satisfied that Ethan finally saw the fire he'd created inside her.
But then Ethan's eyes flicked past her shoulder — and his face paled.
Ava turned.
Dante Moretti was standing at the entrance of the bar.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, conversations dipping, eyes following him like the air itself bent around his presence. He wasn't dressed for shadows tonight — his suit was sharp, his expression lethal.
He moved toward their booth with unhurried steps, every inch of him radiating authority.
Ethan swallowed hard. "Who… who is that?"
Ava's heart hummed . "No one."
But Dante stopped at their table, sliding into the booth beside her as though he belonged there. His arm draped across the back of her seat, his body close enough to scorch.
"Lying again, Ava?" he murmured, his eyes cutting briefly to Ethan before returning to her.
Ethan's voice cracked. "What the hell is this? Who is he?"
Dante's smile was cold, predator. "The man you don't which to know about."
Ethan bristled, puffing himself up. "She's mine. We're working things out."
Dante's expression didn't change, but the air around him grew sharper, darker. "She was yours. Now she's mine."
Ava's breath caught. "Dante—"
But he didn't look at her. His gaze stayed locked on Ethan, unblinking. "Touch her again, and you'll regret it."
Ethan let out a shaky laugh. "Is this a joke? Ava, who is this guy?"
Dante finally turned to her, his eyes softening just slightly. "Tell him, Ava."
Her throat closed. She should have said no. She should have pushed Dante away. But something inside her cracked — fear, desire, inevitability.
She met Ethan's wide eyes and whispered, "He's right. I'm not yours anymore."
Ethan stared at her, betrayal flashing across his face. Then he shoved back from the booth, nearly knocking over his drink.
"This isn't over," he spat, glaring at Dante. "You don't know who you're messing with."
Dante chuckled low, a sound that sent chills down Ava's spine. "Neither do you."
Ethan stormed out, the door slamming behind him.
The silence that followed was thick. Ava sat right , her hands clenched in her lap.
"You had no right," she said finally, her voice trembling.
"I had every right," Dante replied calmly. "You are mine now."
Her chest burned. "I don't belong to anyone."
He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "You belong to me. Whether you admit it yet or not."
Her breath shuddered.
And in that moment, Ava realized two terrifying truths:
Her past was coming back to haunt her.
And her future was already in Dante Moretti's hands
What do you think will be her next move?