4. His First Test

A cold, biting voice brought her back.

"So, this is Aria." Dante's tone soaked in disdain. He ran a hand through his dark hair, letting it fall perfectly back into place. His broad shoulders commanded the presence of the whole room. His tanned skin suggested a life spent under harsh sunlight. His sharp, polished look said otherwise. Even his veined, strong hands seemed made for both power and detail. His jaw tightened as he spoke, making no attempt to conceal the fury burning beneath his now-calm exterior.

"The woman who sold my brother to my enemies." His words stabbed between her ribs.

Nora kept her gaze down, forcing herself not to react. But the mention of Cain, a man she'd taken the blame for killing yet had never seen in her life, was almost too much to take in. She was the last person capable of harming anyone, and the accusation cut deep. The unfairness was grave but it was all she had ever known. She had no room for weakness. Not here.

Dante stepped closer, disgust dripping from his voice. "Nothing clever to say? How disappointing. The infamous Aria, a woman who never cries. I expected someone... well, more than this." He scoffed.

Nora's breaths came shallow. She had to stay strong, to remember Aria's words. "Act like me. You know what will happen if you don't." Her father's life depended on her performance. Fear built in her stomach, but she hid it under layers of toughness. In her mind, she repeated her own words: You've survived worse. You're still here.

Memories of terror became her anchor. Dark nights locked in closets, the blackness crushing her, every sound sharpening her fear. She remembered banging on the walls and begging until her voice gave out. Aria's mother locking her in. The worst was when Aria had lied smoothly to August to cover up her absence, saying Nora was sick, threatening her into silence.

The darkness, the aching loneliness - it hadn't broken her then when she was younger. She wouldn't let Dante break her now.

Dante gently gripped her chin to tilt her face up. He forced her to look into his eyes. His gaze was filled with contempt so sharp it could freeze an ocean. His touch was tender, yet the danger in it was evident. "Look at you." Dante's breath brushed against her lips as he murmured. "Silent. Obedient. But I wonder... Is there anything left inside that vile heart of yours besides venom?"

Then, without warning, he shoved her back. Hard.

Her body hit the cold marble floor, pain lancing through her spine. She gasped but quickly silenced herself. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her hurt.

Her mind snapped to her father, imagining his face, the warmth of his voice.

For him, I can do this. For him, I can be silent.

Dante crouched beside her, his gaze burning, devouring. "Tell me, does it hurt Aria?" His voice was low, velvety smooth, laced with mockery. "Or maybe pain doesn't touch someone like you. When you’ve walked over the bodies of those you've betrayed, pain becomes... nothing."

She refused to say anything. Dante tightened his grip on her arm. He let his fingers press deep into her muscle and bone. A test. A warning. Nora forced herself to stay still. Not even a flinch. She had spent a lifetime swallowing pain. What was one more moment?

"Oh? So you're just going to stare, huh?" he taunted without any humour. "The unbreakable Aria." He finally released her. Disgust was plain on his face as he brushed his gloved hands. As if getting rid of something unclean. "All that filth... I suppose it runs in your blood."

The door swung open. He didn’t look back.

The lock clicked shut, and only then did the tension in her shoulders release. Only then did her breath shudder out of her.

Nora couldn’t help but latch onto that gesture of his. Brushing away his hands after touching her. It reminded her of her stepmother’s rejection years ago. The way she had pushed her away and dusted off her clothes as if the slightest touch from Nora was something to be wiped away. For some reason, she didn't feel anything when Dante insulted her.

She has heard those words before, after all. Too many times. In too many ways.

Maybe I am filth, she thought. Maybe I am repulsive.

Her fingers curled into fists. Her nails bite into her palms as the first tear slipped free.

The pain and humiliation finally broke through the mask. The bruises throbbed, and the ache settled deep.

She brought her knees up, clutching herself tightly, and let herself cry. Just for a moment. Just here, hidden away from everyone, in the quiet, painful dark, she could still be Nora.

And though it felt like the walls were closing in, she would not let herself be truly broken.