The room felt like it was closing in.Every breath I took felt heavier, thicker, as if the very air around me was laced with something poisonous.Dante watched me with that same infuriating smirk, his posture relaxed as if we were having a casual conversation rather than unraveling the fabric of my entire existence.I wanted to hit him.Wanted to rip the answers from his mouth, to shake him until the truth spilled free.But Dante never gave anything away so easily.No, he wanted me to bleed for it.His voice was smooth, slow, deliberately cruel as he spoke his next words.“Your parents weren’t innocent, little bird.”I froze.The words slammed into me like a physical force, stealing the breath from my lungs.My hands curled into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms so hard I was sure they’d leave marks.I shook my head, anger and disbelief colliding inside me.“No,” I snapped, my voice sharp, desperate. “That’s not true.”Dante simply tilted his head, amused. “Oh? And wha
The last day and night had been eerily quiet. Aiden didn’t show up, didn’t whisper threats in the dark, didn’t do anything at all. It was unsettling at first—his absence gnawed at me, leaving me on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But as the hours stretched into the next day, that edge began to dull, replaced by a cautious, fragile hope.Maybe—just maybe—he’d lost interest. Maybe I was safe.That small, desperate thought took root, and by the time the morning light began to filter through my window, it had grown into something I almost dared to believe. I got out of bed feeling lighter, almost normal, like I could actually start to piece my life back together. Maybe I could go back to my daily routine, go back to being just another girl in the orphanage. I prayed silently that this peace would last, that the nightmare was finally over.For the first time in what felt like ages, I smiled as I got dressed, the weight of fear lifting just a little. I caught a glimpse of myself i
I took a deep breath and entered the beast's den. My heart raced as I walked in, aware that I might not make it out alive. Darius Augustus was sitting by the window, his back turned to me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking as he stared outside.Zixin stood in the corner, giving me a cold glare. I wondered what he wanted, but before I could do anything, he motioned for me to kneel. I refused, and he shoved me down to my knees. I knew I couldn't stand up until they allowed me to, and so I remained on the floor, helpless and vulnerable.Darius turned around, smiling as he saw me kneeling in front of him. I felt a surge of anger and hatred but knew there was nothing I could do.The door opened behind me, and someone entered the room. His presence was overwhelming. I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from Darius. His eyes had shifted from mine, and it was then that I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.I wanted to turn around and see who this stranger
A harsh, relentless pounding on the door yanked me from the fragile grip of sleep. My body jerked awake, heart hammering as I struggled to process where I was. The room was still cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the bedside lamp I had forgotten to turn off. For a fleeting second, I thought maybe it was a dream, a cruel trick of my exhausted mind. But the knocking came again, harder this time, rattling the doorframe.“Elena,” Marco’s voice was sharp, impatient. “Get up.”I groaned, pressing my palms against my eyes as the dull ache in my body registered all at once. Every muscle throbbed from the events of the past few days—tense encounters, sleepless nights, and worst of all, the weight of my past. My body wasn’t ready for this. My mind wasn’t ready for this. But none of that mattered. Not in this world.I forced myself upright, wincing as my stiff limbs protested the movement. “What time is it?” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.“Five,”
The cold concrete floor sent a chill up my spine as I shifted my stance, barely managing to stay upright. My breath came in ragged gasps, my muscles screaming in protest, but Antonio didn’t relent. He never did.“Again,” he commanded, his voice sharp, unwavering.I swallowed hard, adjusting my footing. The bruises littering my body throbbed with every movement, a painful reminder of how many times I had already been knocked down. My arms felt like lead, my legs unsteady, but I wasn’t about to give up. Not in front of him.Antonio circled me like a predator assessing its prey. His dark eyes were calculating, unwavering in their scrutiny. “You’re too slow,” he remarked. “Too predictable.”I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stay focused. I had to block. I had to react faster. I had to stop ending up on the ground. He lunged, his fist cutting through the air, aimed straight for my face. Instinctively, I raised my arms in a weak attempt to shield myself, but he was faster. His
The sun climbed higher in the sky as we continued, casting shorter shadows across the training ground. Time seemed to stretch and contract, measured only by the count of bullets spent, the mechanical action of reloading when the magazine emptied.By the time Antonio finally lowered my arm, my muscles ached, my hands numb from the repeated recoil. My ears rang slightly despite the protection we wore. The wooden target was riddled with bullet holes, some closer to the center than others, a visual record of my progress over the hours we'd spent here.I had improved.But I didn't feel victorious. There was no satisfaction in becoming better at dealing death, even if it was only to a wooden board. The ease with which I now handled the weapon was disturbing—a reminder of how quickly one could adapt to violence, how the unthinkable could become routine with enough repetition.I lowered the gun, staring at it in my hands. The cold metal still felt foreign, unwelcome. No matter how many times
My footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as the maid escorted me back to my room. Each step felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, my exhaustion creeping through my veins like a slow poison. The training session had been particularly brutal today, leaving every muscle in my body screaming in protest. The marble floor beneath my feet seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, its polished surface reflecting the soft golden light from the crystal chandeliers hanging above.As the maid opened the door to my room, my gaze swept over the large space, my eyes immediately locking onto the elaborate display of dresses laid out on the bed. A selection of gowns—rich in color, fabric, and style—stretched across the fabric, each one seemingly more beautiful than the last. The intricate lacework, the velvet, and satin gleamed under the soft light coming from the crystal chandelier above me. A feeling of unease twisted in my stomach, an unsettling reminder of the event I was expected t
I ran my hands down the sides of my dress, smoothing out the material, feeling the weight of what it meant. The velvet was cool beneath my fingertips, luxurious and heavy—much like the burden I was about to bear. Every stitch, every fold of fabric represented another layer of the facade I was forced to wear. The dress hugged my figure perfectly, a testament to Dante's attention to detail, even in his methods of control. Nothing in his world was left to chance, especially not my appearance on a night like this.Marco's words from earlier echoed in my mind, cutting through the silence of the room like shards of glass. His warnings had been delivered in that clipped, matter-of-fact tone he always used—the voice of someone who had seen too much and survived only by learning the rules quickly."You're not going there to speak. You're going there to listen."His dark eyes had been intense, boring into mine with an urgency that made my skin prickle. There had been no kindness in his instruct
We approached the entrance, where two men in dark suits stood with the perfect stillness of those trained to become part of the scenery until needed. Their eyes flicked to Dante, recognition immediate, respect or fear—perhaps both—evident in the subtle inclination of their heads. Then their gaze shifted to me, assessing, cataloging, memorizing. In their world, unknown elements were threats until proven otherwise, and I was very much an unknown.The doors opened before us, revealing a foyer of marble and crystal, of art worth more than most people would see in a lifetime. The space was designed to overwhelm, to remind visitors of their place in the hierarchy before they even reached the main gathering. It was psychological warfare disguised as decoration, and even knowing its purpose didn't diminish its effectiveness.The moment we entered, I felt it. The shift in the air. The subtle change in atmospheric pressure that came not from weather but from power—from the awareness of predator
The car rolled to a stop, the hum of the engine fading into silence. The transition from movement to stillness was jarring, marking the end of whatever sanctuary the journey had provided. Through the tinted windows, I could see the blurred outlines of other vehicles, sleek and black like ours, their polished surfaces reflecting the golden glow emanating from the mansion. Each one carried someone who could destroy lives with a single command, who navigated this world of shadows and power with the ease of those born to it.For a long moment, I didn't move. My fingers remained clasped tightly in my lap, the knuckles white with tension despite my attempts to appear composed. I drew in a slow, measured breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of my heart, to quiet the voice in my head screaming that I wasn't ready for this—that I would never be ready for this.Beyond the tinted glass, the world I wasn't ready for awaited me. A realm of predators and prey, of calculated moves and devastat
Dante didn't move for a long moment after his last words, simply standing there, sipping his whiskey with a patience that was both calculated and unnerving. The amber liquid caught the light as he tilted the crystal tumbler, his dark eyes never leaving mine, gauging my reaction with that perpetual air of amusement that seemed permanently etched into his features. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken threats and promises, the weight of it pressing against my chest until I could barely breathe.Then—without a word—he extended his arm toward me. A silent command.I stared at it. At him. My heart hammered against my ribs with such force I was certain he could hear it, the pounding rhythm betraying the calm façade I fought desperately to maintain. But I kept my expression unreadable, years of practice allowing me to hide the storm building inside me behind a mask of indifference. My fingers trembled slightly at my sides, and I curled them into fists to still the motion bef
The moment I stepped into the hallway, I saw her. A maid stood just outside, waiting. Her eyes, when they met mine, held none of the pity or concern one might expect. There was only a cool assessment, an evaluation that seemed to penetrate beyond the expensive dress and careful makeup.Her posture was perfectly composed, hands folded neatly in front of her. She didn't look at me like a girl about to enter a world of wolves. There was no sympathy in her gaze, no silent communication of solidarity or concern. Instead, she regarded me with a detached respect that was somehow more unsettling than any pity could have been.She looked at me like I was already one of them. Like the transformation was complete, the metamorphosis from ordinary girl to Dante's creation already accomplished. Her eyes held the recognition of a fellow predator, not the wariness reserved for prey. I didn't know whether to feel flattered or horrified by what she saw in me.Without a word, she turned, beginning to wa
I ran my hands down the sides of my dress, smoothing out the material, feeling the weight of what it meant. The velvet was cool beneath my fingertips, luxurious and heavy—much like the burden I was about to bear. Every stitch, every fold of fabric represented another layer of the facade I was forced to wear. The dress hugged my figure perfectly, a testament to Dante's attention to detail, even in his methods of control. Nothing in his world was left to chance, especially not my appearance on a night like this.Marco's words from earlier echoed in my mind, cutting through the silence of the room like shards of glass. His warnings had been delivered in that clipped, matter-of-fact tone he always used—the voice of someone who had seen too much and survived only by learning the rules quickly."You're not going there to speak. You're going there to listen."His dark eyes had been intense, boring into mine with an urgency that made my skin prickle. There had been no kindness in his instruct
My footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as the maid escorted me back to my room. Each step felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, my exhaustion creeping through my veins like a slow poison. The training session had been particularly brutal today, leaving every muscle in my body screaming in protest. The marble floor beneath my feet seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, its polished surface reflecting the soft golden light from the crystal chandeliers hanging above.As the maid opened the door to my room, my gaze swept over the large space, my eyes immediately locking onto the elaborate display of dresses laid out on the bed. A selection of gowns—rich in color, fabric, and style—stretched across the fabric, each one seemingly more beautiful than the last. The intricate lacework, the velvet, and satin gleamed under the soft light coming from the crystal chandelier above me. A feeling of unease twisted in my stomach, an unsettling reminder of the event I was expected t
The sun climbed higher in the sky as we continued, casting shorter shadows across the training ground. Time seemed to stretch and contract, measured only by the count of bullets spent, the mechanical action of reloading when the magazine emptied.By the time Antonio finally lowered my arm, my muscles ached, my hands numb from the repeated recoil. My ears rang slightly despite the protection we wore. The wooden target was riddled with bullet holes, some closer to the center than others, a visual record of my progress over the hours we'd spent here.I had improved.But I didn't feel victorious. There was no satisfaction in becoming better at dealing death, even if it was only to a wooden board. The ease with which I now handled the weapon was disturbing—a reminder of how quickly one could adapt to violence, how the unthinkable could become routine with enough repetition.I lowered the gun, staring at it in my hands. The cold metal still felt foreign, unwelcome. No matter how many times
The cold concrete floor sent a chill up my spine as I shifted my stance, barely managing to stay upright. My breath came in ragged gasps, my muscles screaming in protest, but Antonio didn’t relent. He never did.“Again,” he commanded, his voice sharp, unwavering.I swallowed hard, adjusting my footing. The bruises littering my body throbbed with every movement, a painful reminder of how many times I had already been knocked down. My arms felt like lead, my legs unsteady, but I wasn’t about to give up. Not in front of him.Antonio circled me like a predator assessing its prey. His dark eyes were calculating, unwavering in their scrutiny. “You’re too slow,” he remarked. “Too predictable.”I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stay focused. I had to block. I had to react faster. I had to stop ending up on the ground. He lunged, his fist cutting through the air, aimed straight for my face. Instinctively, I raised my arms in a weak attempt to shield myself, but he was faster. His
A harsh, relentless pounding on the door yanked me from the fragile grip of sleep. My body jerked awake, heart hammering as I struggled to process where I was. The room was still cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the bedside lamp I had forgotten to turn off. For a fleeting second, I thought maybe it was a dream, a cruel trick of my exhausted mind. But the knocking came again, harder this time, rattling the doorframe.“Elena,” Marco’s voice was sharp, impatient. “Get up.”I groaned, pressing my palms against my eyes as the dull ache in my body registered all at once. Every muscle throbbed from the events of the past few days—tense encounters, sleepless nights, and worst of all, the weight of my past. My body wasn’t ready for this. My mind wasn’t ready for this. But none of that mattered. Not in this world.I forced myself upright, wincing as my stiff limbs protested the movement. “What time is it?” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.“Five,”