Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The car was suffocating. The air inside was thick with the scent of leather and cologne, mixed with the faint metallic tang of something less pleasant—like sweat or blood, though she couldn’t quite place it. It was the kind of air that made you feel trapped, like your lungs could never fill enough, no matter how hard you tried.

Izzy sat in the back seat, her hands still clenched into fists at her sides. She hadn’t spoken a word since they forced her inside, and they hadn’t said anything to her either. The two men who had grabbed her remained silent, one sitting in the front seat, the other beside her, his eyes darting between the road and her. Neither of them looked remotely concerned by her presence, like she was just another piece of cargo being delivered to the inevitable.

Her pulse hammered in her ears, a deafening rhythm that seemed to match the thrum of the engine beneath her. She couldn’t stop the thoughts from racing through her mind, each one more desperate than the last. Maya. Her daughter. How do I get her out of this?

The words Dante had said earlier kept replaying in her mind. Your daughter is mine now, Izzy. She’s mine. That claim, that assertion, made her skin crawl. Dante had always been possessive, but this... this was something different. This was about control. And it was clear now—if she didn’t find a way out, Maya would be caught in this world of violence and power plays, just like she had been.

The car took a sharp turn, jerking her from her thoughts. Izzy looked out the window. The city lights blurred past, but it wasn’t the city she recognized. No, this wasn’t just any street. The buildings were taller, the roads narrower. The faint hum of traffic was replaced by a chilling quiet, the kind that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She tried to speak, tried to demand answers, but her throat was dry, her voice barely a whisper. "Where are we going?" she asked, though she wasn’t sure why she bothered. She knew the answer already. Somewhere Dante had planned. Somewhere she wouldn’t have a choice.

The man beside her didn’t answer at first, just kept his eyes forward. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and flat. "You’ll find out soon enough."

Izzy’s stomach twisted. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing in, like a storm was brewing just beyond the horizon.

The car turned again, this time into a long, narrow drive that led to a massive, imposing gate. The moment it swung open, Izzy’s breath hitched in her throat. She knew exactly where they were.

The Vieri estate.

The mansion loomed ahead like some kind of dark, looming specter—its high walls and iron gates sending a chill down her spine. This was the heart of Dante’s world. The place where power was made, where loyalty was demanded, and where no one was ever truly free.

The car slowed as they approached the front steps, and Izzy’s mind raced. Think, Izzy. Think. But the truth was, she didn’t know what to do. She was trapped in the belly of the beast, surrounded by Dante’s men, with nowhere to run. Every instinct told her to fight, to scream, to resist, but she knew that would only make it worse. The Vieri family wasn’t known for mercy. She’d learned that long ago.

The car came to a stop in front of the grand entrance, the headlights cutting through the night like a blade. The heavy doors opened, and Izzy was ushered out with one swift motion, the man beside her grabbing her elbow and pulling her toward the door. Her feet scraped against the gravel, her shoes barely making a sound on the cold stone.

"Dante’s waiting for you," the man muttered.

Izzy didn’t respond. She couldn’t find the words. All she could do was follow, her mind racing with the weight of the choices ahead. Would she be forced to live here? To become some kind of trophy for Dante, a reminder of their past? Or would he give her a chance to escape—if she could find a way to protect Maya?

The door swung open before them, and a wave of cold air rushed inside, carrying with it the faint scent of expensive cologne, leather, and a hint of something else—something darker. It was as if the house itself held memories, steeped in secrets that couldn’t be erased.

The foyer was vast, marble floors gleaming under the dim lights. Everything about the place screamed power, control, and wealth. The heavy curtains at the windows were drawn, casting everything in an oppressive gloom. There was no warmth here—just cold, hard luxury, the kind that made you feel small, insignificant.

Izzy was pushed forward, and she barely had time to register anything before she was standing in front of Dante. He was sitting behind a massive desk, his back straight, his eyes fixed on her as though he was studying her every movement. His expression was unreadable, though there was a hardness to his features that wasn’t there before. He was the same, yet not the same—the boy she once knew had been replaced by this man who exuded power, danger, and a terrifying calm.

"You’ve arrived," Dante said, his voice soft but carrying an authority that made Izzy’s knees go weak. "We need to talk."

Izzy clenched her jaw, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She refused to show him how much his presence affected her, even as every part of her wanted to scream, to fight.

"I’m not staying here," she said, her voice raw but firm. "I won’t be a part of this."

Dante’s lips quirked into a small, almost amused smile. But it didn’t reach his eyes. "You don’t have a choice, Izzy." His voice was low, like a warning. "You never did."

She swallowed hard, trying to keep the panic at bay. "I’m not going to be your prisoner," she said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to stay strong.

Dante stood slowly, and for a moment, Izzy thought he was going to come closer. But instead, he walked around the desk, his steps deliberate and steady. "Prisoner?" he said, his voice cool. "You’re not a prisoner. You’re my responsibility."

Izzy’s eyes narrowed. "I’m not your responsibility, Dante. I’m not anyone’s."

He stopped in front of her, his gaze never leaving hers. "You are mine, Izzy," he said, his tone unwavering, like a promise and a threat all at once. "You always have been."

Izzy’s breath hitched. The pull of his words, the weight of his gaze, was too much. She wanted to break free, to run, but she knew better now. Running wouldn’t save her. Not this time.

Instead, she clenched her fists, willing herself not to fall apart in front of him. She would fight this. For Maya.

But deep down, she feared it was already too late.