The night was thick with silence when Dante stood by the window of his office, staring into the abyss beyond the glass. The serpent card still burned in his memory, a reminder of Isabella's audacity. Ava lingered near the door, her arms folded around herself, watching him with dread gnawing at her chest. She hadn't seen him like this-coiled, taut, every inch of him screaming violence.
"Dante..." she whispered, almost afraid to disturb the storm within him.
He turned, his eyes molten steel. "Stay here, piccola. Tonight is not for you."
Her throat tightened. "What are you going to do?"
His lips curved into something that wasn't a smile. It was a warning.
"Tonight, Isabella learns who I am."
Ava's stomach dropped. Before she could stop him,Dante signaled to his men and walked out, the weight of his power filling every corner he left behind. She sank against the wall, her pulse racing, knowing that when Dante unleashed himself, nothing was ever the same.
The private bar lay beneath one of Dante's hidden establishments in the city. Exclusive, decadent, soaked in secrets and shadows-it was his domain.
Whiskey and cigar smoke curled into the low light, the heavy scent of leather and musk thick in the air.
The clink of glasses was the only sound before the silence devoured it again.
The double doors opened. Two of Dante's men shoved Isabella inside. She looked elegant, as always--her sleek black dress hugging her body, her hair perfect, her perfume clinging to her like armor.
But there was a flicker of fear in her eyes as she
stumbled into the lion's den.
"Dante," she breathed, forcing composure into her tone. "What is this? Why drag me here like some-"
The back of his hand connected with her face before she could finish. The slap cracked through the room, sharp and violent. Isabella reeled, clutching her cheek, her perfect mask splintering.
The men stepped back, leaving them alone in the heart of the bar.
"Sit," Dante commanded, his voice low and lethal.
Isabella faltered, then slid into one of the leather chairs, her hands trembling despite her effort to appear unbothered.
"You went too far," Dante said, pacing in front of her like a predator circling prey. His Italian accent sharpened every word into a blade. "A bloody card?
A serpent wrapped around a rose? You think you can crawl into my house and spit venom when she sleeps?"
"I warned you," Isabella hissed, her voice cracking.
"She doesn't belong in your world, Dante. She's weak. She'll break, and when she does-"
The slam of his palm against the table cut her off.
The glasses rattled, whiskey spilling like blood across polished wood.
"Do not speak her name with your filthy tongue,"
Dante roared.
For a heartbeat, silence swallowed the room.
Isabella's chest rose and fell rapidly, but she lifted her chin, defiant even with fear bleeding through.
"You've forgotten who you are," she spat. "Who we were. I've loved you since we were children. I stood by you when you had nothing -when your hands were still clean! And now you throw it all away for her? For some fragile girl who doesn't even understand what you are?"
Dante leaned down, his face inches from hers, his voice suddenly quiet but venomous.
"You were never mine, Isabella. Not then. Not now.
You were a shadow at my side, nothing more. I don't love you. I never have."
The words landed like bullets. Isabella flinched, her lips parting, her bravado crumbling.
"Liar," she whispered.
Dante straightened, pulling a crystal glass from the table. He poured whiskey slowly, deliberately, then slammed it down in front of her. The amber liquid sloshed violently.
"You want the truth?" He leaned close again. "You're nothing. Not my woman. Not my lover. Just a relic of the past that refuses to stay buried. And now-you've declared war on me."
He grabbed the glass and hurled it against the wall.
It shattered, shards raining onto the floor. One piece cut across Isabella's cheek, a thin line of blood blooming against her pale skin. She gasped, pressing her hand to it, staring at him with wide, furious eyes.
"Dante," she whispered, voice trembling. "You'd really hurt me... for her?"
His expression hardened like a stone. "For her, I would burn the world."
Hidden in the shadows of the bar's upper balcony, Ava clutched the railing, her heart racing. She had followed Dante despite his warning, unable to stay behind. Now, watching him, her chest tightened with conflicting emotions. He was terrifying-merciless, brutal-but he was also hers. He had drawn a line in blood for her.
Isabella's gaze flickered upward, as if sensing Ava's presence. A cruel smile twisted her lips despite the blood on them.
"She's watching, isn't she?" Isabella whispered.
"Good. Let her see the monster she clings to. Let her see that the man she thinks loves her is nothing but a butcher wearing a suit!
Dante's hand shot out, gripping her jaw with crushing force. His thumb pressed into her bruised cheek, his eyes blazing.
"Careful," he murmured dangerously. "Your life hangs by a thread, and I am the one holding it."
Isabella winced, but her smile didn't fade. Blood smeared her teeth as she whispered, "Your obsession with her will destroy you, Dante. Mark my words. She will be your downfall."
He released her suddenly, shoving her back into the chair with contempt.
"Get her out of my sight," he barked to his men.
They rushed in, dragging Isabella toward the door.
Her laughter, bitter and broken, echoed behind her like a curse.
Dante stood in the wreckage of the bar, chest heaving, hands trembling with barely contained rage. He didn't look up until he heard a small sound above him. Ava stepped into the dim light, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"You followed me," he said flatly.
"I couldn't just sit there," she whispered. "I had to know what you'd do."
He climbed the stairs slowly, each step deliberate.
When he reached her, his bloodstained hand cupped her cheek. She didn't flinch, though her heart pounded against her ribs.
"Now you know," he said softly. "Now you've seen the man I am."
Tears slipped down her cheek. "And the man who terrifies me."
Dante's jaw clenched, his thumb brushing away her tears. "Fear me all you want, piccola. But remember this-no one will ever hurt you while I breathe. Not Isabella. Not anyone."
His lips ghosted across her temple, tender and obsessive all at once.
As Ava closed her eyes, torn between fear and need, Isabella's words echoed like poison in the night:
"Your obsession with her will destroy you, Dante. I'll make sure of it."
And Ava knew-this war was only beginning.