Chapter 6: A Taste of Freedom

Isla

I couldn't breathe. The walls of Dante's mansion were closing in, the luxury suffocating me more than I ever thought possible. The marble floors, the gilded paintings—they weren’t signs of wealth anymore. They were prison bars. Every day felt like I was losing more of myself, trapped beneath Dante’s watchful eye. But tonight was different. Tonight, I was going to escape.

Dante was away on business—something dark and dangerous, no doubt, but I didn’t care. The moment he left, I knew it was my only chance. My heart pounded as I waited for the house to fall silent, listening to the faint footsteps of the guards echo through the halls. I counted them. Three outside the east wing. One near the entrance. Two at the back. I had memorized their patterns for days, biding my time.

The air was thick with tension as I crept through the hallways, careful not to make a sound. Every breath felt like a risk, every step like a betrayal. But I couldn’t stay here any longer. Dante’s control over me was tightening, and the thought of being his possession forever made my skin crawl.

I made it to the back door. My pulse raced as I reached for the handle, daring to believe I might actually make it out. Freedom was just beyond this door, a few feet away. My hand was trembling as I turned the knob, and for a moment, it was as if the world held its breath with me. The door creaked open, just enough for me to slip through.

But then, a voice cut through the silence.

“You really thought you could just walk out?”

I froze. My stomach dropped. Slowly, I turned to see Luca, one of Dante’s most loyal men, standing in the doorway behind me, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Luca, please…” I whispered, desperation clawing at my voice. I wasn’t sure what I was begging for—his silence, his understanding, anything that would let me take just one more step toward freedom.

He stepped forward, his gaze softening slightly but not enough to offer hope. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Running will only make it worse.”

I shook my head, panic rising in my chest. “I can’t stay here,” I choked out. “I can’t… I can’t live like this.”

Luca's face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes—pity, maybe. “You have no idea what happens if you run, Isla. The things out there are worse than anything you’ll face in here.”

“I don’t care,” I hissed, my voice sharp with desperation. “I’d rather die than be trapped in this prison.”

But even as I said the words, doubt crept into my mind. What if Luca was right? What if the world outside was more dangerous than I knew? What if leaving Dante’s protection only led to something worse?

Still, I couldn’t stop. I had to try.

I pushed past Luca, running for the door, my feet flying over the cool marble as fast as they could take me. For a moment, I felt the rush of freedom. The night air hit my skin, and the darkness beyond the mansion’s walls beckoned. I was almost there—

And then I felt it.

A hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back with brutal force. I crashed into something solid—someone—and my breath was knocked from my lungs. When I looked up, I found myself face to face with Dante.

His eyes were burning, filled with a fury I had never seen before. My heart pounded in my chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched the anger flashing in his gaze.

“You really thought you could run from me?” His voice was low, dangerous, each word dripping with venom. He pulled me closer, his grip ironclad around my arm. “You don’t get to walk away, Isla.”

“I’m not yours!” I spat, trying to wrench myself free, but his grip only tightened, his body caging mine against the cold stone wall.

“Oh, you are,” he growled, his voice a whisper against my ear. “You’ve been mine from the moment you made that deal, and don’t you ever forget it.”

I glared up at him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “You don’t own me. I’m not some... thing you can control.”

His eyes darkened, something flickering behind the anger—something raw, almost vulnerable, but it was gone before I could make sense of it. “Is that what you think?” he whispered, his breath hot against my neck. “That this is just about control?”

I flinched, but I held my ground. “What else could it be?”

For a moment, his grip loosened, and I thought he might let me go. But then, just as quickly, his hands were on me again, pinning me to the wall with a force that made my head spin.

“You’re mine, Isla,” he growled, his voice low and deadly. “And you’ll stay mine. Do you understand?”

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the overwhelming sense of panic that surged through me. The fear, the anger, the suffocating weight of his presence—it was too much. But beneath all of that, something darker stirred. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Dante’s eyes bore into mine, fierce and unrelenting, and for a moment, it felt like he could see every part of me—my fear, my desperation, my confusion. And then, his hand moved from my arm to my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a gesture so surprisingly gentle, it made my breath catch.

“You think this is about control?” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. “It’s not. It’s about you, Isla. You think I’ll let you run? I’d hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

I swallowed, my heart racing. His words sent a chill down my spine, but I couldn’t ignore the way my body reacted to him—the heat, the confusion, the pull that I hated but couldn’t deny.

“You don’t get to leave me,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to mine. “Not ever.”

I wanted to scream, to shove him away, to fight back against the pull that had taken root deep inside me. But I couldn’t. Not with the way he looked at me, not with the fire that burned in his eyes.

In that moment, I knew two things for certain: Dante wasn’t just angry because I had tried to escape. He was terrified of losing me. And no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I was terrified of what it meant that I couldn’t pull away.

Dante’s hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes, and his voice was a low, dangerous promise. “You’re mine, Isla. And you’ll stay mine. No matter what it takes.”