"Ava couldn't shake the doubt. Isabella's words kept echoing in her head. Each one cut deeper than before. Dante's touch felt like fire and chains now, all at once somehow. She wanted so bad to believe him. But trusting someone from that secret-filled world just wasn't happening. Not when every smile might hide three lies you'd never see coming. The thing is, his hands still burned where they touched her skin even as her brain screamed warnings she couldn't ignore anymore".
Ava stayed on the balcony long after sunset, the mansion lights glowing softly behind her while the city twinkled in the distance. The air was cool, but inside her chest, everything burned.
She wanted to be furious, to hold onto the anger Isabella had ignited inside her—but underneath, what lingered was worse. Insecurity. Fear. Maybe Isabella had been right. That maybe she didn't belong here, in Dante's world, in Dante's bed, in Dante's life.
The door behind her slid open. She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"You've been avoiding me," Dante said, his deep voice carrying both command and accusation.
Ava didn't answer. Her fingers tightened around the balcony rail, knuckles whitening.
"Or maybe," Dante continued, stepping closer, his warmth brushing against her back, "you've been avoiding the truth."
Her throat closed. "The truth?"
"That she got into your head."
Ava spun around then, fire flashing in her eyes despite the tears burning behind them. "She didn't have to get into my head, Dante. She just said out loud what I've already been thinking."
His gaze darkened. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means I don't belong here!" Ava's voice cracked, but she pressed on, her words tumbling out sharp and raw. "Look at me. I'm not part of your world. I don't know your rules, I don't know your enemies. I'm just… me. Some stupid girl who walked into a bar because her life was falling apart and thought she could drown it in whiskey. That's who I am, Dante. That's all I am."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anger and despair colliding in every breath. "And maybe she's right—maybe I'm just temporary. Maybe you'll wake up one morning and wonder why the hell you let me stay this long."
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Dante's jaw ticked as he stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between them.
His hands cupped her face, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"You think I'd risk bringing just anyone into this life?" His voice was low, dangerous with intensity. "You think I'd open my doors, my bed, my soul, to someone I could toss aside the next day?"
Ava's lips parted, but no sound came out.
Dante leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers, his words a fierce vow. "No, Ava. You are not temporary. You're not disposable. You're not like anyone who came before you. You're mine. And the sooner you accept that, the safer you'll be."
Her throat tightened, a tear slipping free despite her effort to hold it in. "But what if I can't handle it? What if she's right, and your world breaks me?"
"Then I'll break the world before it touches you."
The ferocity in his tone, the raw promise in his eyes, left her breathless. He wasn't just saying it—he meant it.
Ava's anger cracked then, her insecurity spilling over in a whisper as she clutched the front of his shirt. "Don't let me be temporary."
Dante pulled her against him, his embrace crushing and protective, his voice a growl against her ear. "Never. You're mine, Ava. Always."
He kissed her—hard, unyielding, desperate—it wasn't just a kiss. It was a claim, a vow, a brand on her soul that left no doubt, no space for Isabella's poison to take root.
In that moment, Ava finally understood: Dante wasn't just keeping her. He was choosing her, over everyone, over everything.
And that choice was both the most intoxicating and the most dangerous thing she had ever known.
"Dante held her chin tight, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were hard and wouldn't back down. You can question everything else, Ava. You can even question your own self. But don't ever question me. His words came out low and rough, scraping against her skin like gravel. She could feel the heat of his grip through her bones. When he spoke again it was barely above a growl, the kind that makes your chest vibrate. Anyone tries to take you from me gets turned to ash. That clear enough for you."