The first rays of dawn slanted through the velvet curtains, painting the room in streaks of muted gold.Ava stirred beneath the heavy sheets, her breath uneven as her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, the world felt still-too still. Then the memory of last night's scene crashed into her chest like a hammer.
Dante's voice, cold and sharp. Isabella's smirk, full of venom. And then-the sound of his palm striking Isabella's cheek. The shock that reverberated through Ava's body as she watched a man she was starting to love show a side so merciless, so cruel, that it twisted her stomach even now.
She sat up abruptly, pressing a trembling hand to her temple. The mansion was quiet.The silence wasn't comforting; it was thick, as if the very walls held secrets whispered in blood and shadow.
Her gaze drifted to the card still resting on her nightstand. The serpent coiled around a rose, drawn in crimson that could only have been blood. Her chest tightened. Isabella's warning was clear: Ava didn't belong here.
And maybe, just maybe... she was right.
Ava rose from the bed and wrapped Dante's silk robe around her, inhaling his lingering scent of cedarwood and smoke. The robe should have comforted her, but instead it bound her like invisible chains. Every corner of this mansion whispered Dante. His world. His power. His darkness.
She padded softly into the hall, her bare feet silent against the polished marble floor. Her eyes caught the glimmer of chandeliers above, the paintings of saints and sinners that lined the walls. This wasn't just a home--it was a kingdom. And she was its unwilling queen.
Her steps carried her to the library. The scent of old leather and tobacco hung in the air, and the fire in the grand hearth had burned down to dying embers.She sat heavily on a velvet chair, curling her knees to her chest. For the first time in weeks, she let the fear seep through her.
What if she was losing herself?
She had come into Dante's life as a woman with a career, ambitions, dreams. Now her days were consumed with his gaze, his touch, his dominance.
Even her workplace wasn't safe anymore- his influence spread there too, through Callahan and the men who always watched her.
She was tangled in his world.
And yet...
Her lips trembled as the thought crept in. She wanted him. She wanted the man who had shielded her with his body, who had whispered promises of safety even as he painted her life with danger. She wanted the very obsession that terrified her.
That contradiction hollowed her out.
The heavy door creaked open. Ava jolted, her bodystiffening as Dante entered. He looked tired but composed, every inch of him carved with authority.
His shirt was open at the collar, revealing a glimpse of the tattoos scrawled across his chest-symbols of violence, power, and unbreakable oaths.
His eyes locked on her instantly. Dark. Possessive.
Dangerous.
"You're awake," he said, his voice low, controlled.
He stepped further into the room, his presence filling it, suffocating her and yet pulling her closer.
Ava lowered her gaze, gripping the robe tighter.
"Couldn't sleep."
Dante's steps were deliberate, slow, like a predator circling prey. But when he reached her, his hand cupped her chin with unexpected gentleness. He tilted her face toward him, forcing her to meet the storm in his eyes.
"You're thinking too much," he murmured.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I saw you, Dante. Last night. You hit her. I... I can't erase it."
His jaw tightened, the lines of his face hardening.
But his thumb brushed her cheek tenderly, almost pleadingly. "Isabella crossed the line. She threatened what's mine." His gaze burned into hers. "I protect what's mine, Ava. Even if it means drawing blood."
Her chest constricted. "And what am I then? Yours to keep? Yours to hurt if I ever cross you?"
The silence that followed was a dagger. For a moment, his eyes flickered with something raw, unguarded. Then his grip on her chin tightened -not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her of his control.
"You're not Isabella," he whispered, voice hoarse.
"Don't ever compare yourself to her. You are the only thing in this world I want to protect, not destroy."
Her lips parted, but words wouldn't come. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She didn't know whether to believe him-or to run from him.
Dante sat on the armrest of her chair, pulling her between his legs as if claiming her body could erase her doubts. His hand traced her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, each touch a mix of tenderness and ownership.
"You think you don't belong here," he said softly.
"But this place is safer than anywhere else. Safer than your firm. Safer than the streets. Safer than any future you imagine without me!
Ava's chest heaved. "Safe? Dante, your world is painted in blood. Everywhere I look, there's danger.
There are shadows watching, threats waiting." Her voice cracked. "And you... you scare me too."
That admission hung heavy in the air. Dante froze, his dark eyes searching hers, burning with something violent and desperate. For the first time, he didn't look like the invincible Don. He looked like a man on the edge of losing the only thing he couldn't afford to lose.
He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear.
"Good. Be scared of me. At least then you won't walk away."
Ava gasped, a shiver running through her spine. The contradiction of his words--threat and plea woven together-twisted her heart.
Hours passed in a blur. Dante didn't let her leave the library. He poured her a glass of wine, sat with her by the fire, and spoke in low tones about anything but the shadows that stalked them. It should have comforted her, but it felt like another kind of cage.
When she excused herself to return to her room, Dante's hand caught her wrist. He rose, towering over her, his eyes fierce.
"You're not leaving me, Ava," he said, voice low but firm. "Not now, not ever. Do you understand?"
Her lips parted to protest, but the intensity of his gaze silenced her. She nodded faintly, though inside her doubts screamed louder than ever.
That night, Ava lay in bed, restless. The mansion was too quiet. Too heavy with secrets . She tossed beneath the sheets, Dante's words circling her mind like chains.
Finally, she rose and slipped into the hall, the silence pressing in around her. She wandered toward the grand staircase, her hand trailing along the banister.A faint murmur caught her ear-voices coming from down the corridor.
She froze, her heart thundering.
Creeping closer, she realized it was Dante's men.
They were speaking in hushed tones, unaware of her presence.
"..she's not giving up," one muttered. "Isabella won't stop until Ava's gone."
"Dante's making moves, but it's not enough," another replied. "She's playing smarter now. Using people we don't see."
Ava's breath caught. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Isabella wasn't finished. The blood-stained card had only been the beginning.
The men shifted, their voices lowering further. Ava strained to listen, but one phrase cut through the murmur like a blade.
"it's not just Isabella anymore. There's someone else backing her."
A chill slid down Ava's spine.
Her knees weakened, and she gripped the wall to steady herself. If Isabella wasn't acting alone, then the shadows circling her weren't just a threat-they were an army.
Ava staggered back toward her room, her mind spinning, her heart pounding with terror and confusion. She collapsed against the bed, trembling, the truth echoing in her mind.
She couldn't escape this world. Not because of Dante's chains... but because the darkness had already marked her.
As she closed her eyes, trying to silence the storm inside her, a low, familiar voice cut through the night
-sliding through the shadows of her room.
"Ava.."
Her eyes snapped open. She wasn't alone.