Dante carried her through the silent halls, her weight light against his chest but heavy enough to crush him from the inside. Her shawl had slipped loose, her hair wild, her eyes still glassy with terror. She hadn't spoken a word since the garden.
Every step echoed like a confession.
Lucian, you bastard.
But as much as Dante wanted to pin the blame solely on his brother, he couldn't. Not when the memory replayed in his head—Matteo's last night, the fight that had spiraled too far, the blade that had found its mark. Lucian's hand had delivered the fatal strike, but Dante had started it. He'd pushed too hard, snapped too violently, left no room for mercy.
Blood had been on both their hands.
Now Aria knew part of the truth. And that was already too much.
He reached her room, pushing the door open with his shoulder. Gently—more gently than anyone would believe of him—he lowered her to the bed. She flinched as his hands brushed her skin, her wide eyes locking on his.
"You're safe," he said, though the words burned like a lie on his tongue.
Her voice cracked. "Safe? He tried to kill me, Dante. And you—" Her breath hitched. "You knew."
Dante's jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "There are things you don't understand, Aria. Things I can't let you carry."
Tears welled in her eyes, and it felt like a blade twisting in his chest. "You should have told me. You should have trusted me."
Trust. That was the one thing he couldn't afford. If she knew everything—if she knew his role that night—she wouldn't just fear him. She would hate him.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his fingers lingering a heartbeat too long. "All that matters is you're alive. I won't let him touch you again."
Her lips trembled, but she didn't answer. She turned her face away, curling slightly into herself.
Dante stood there, silent, staring at her fragile form on the bed. To the rest of the world, he was the merciless Moretti heir, the storm that swallowed enemies whole. But tonight, with her, he was nothing but a man drowning in sins too heavy to confess.
Matteo. Aria. Lucian.
Every name was a ghost clawing at his soul.
And still, he couldn't let her go.
The study smelled of smoke and whiskey, the kind of place secrets were born and buried. Lucian sat in Dante's chair, legs stretched out, swirling a glass of amber liquid as if he owned the room.
When Dante slammed the door shut behind him, the glass clinked.
"Enjoying yourself?" Dante's voice was low, sharp enough to cut.
Lucian smirked, silver eyes glittering like ice. "I thought I'd make myself comfortable. After all, we both know you won't throw me out."
Dante stalked across the room, his fists itching to break that smug face. "You tried to kill her."
Lucian tilted his head lazily. "Correction—I could have killed her. If I wanted to. But I didn't. You got there in time, didn't you? Always the knight in tarnished armor."
Dante grabbed him by the collar, yanking him upright. "Don't you dare touch her again."
Lucian didn't flinch. He just smiled wider, almost taunting. "Or what, brother? You'll kill me? Like you killed Matteo?"
The words were poison. Dante's grip tightened until the veins in his hand throbbed. His teeth ground so hard his jaw ached.
"You don't get to say his name," Dante snarled.
Lucian chuckled, low and dark, even as Dante shoved him back against the desk. "Oh, but I do. Because you and I both know the truth. I held the knife, yes—but you started it. You fed the fire. And when it burned too hot, Matteo was the one who turned to ash."
For a split second, Dante's eyes flickered with raw guilt—exactly what Lucian wanted.
"You want to protect Aria?" Lucian whispered, his lips curling into a vicious smile. "Then lie to her. Keep lying. Because the moment she finds out what you did, Dante… she won't just look at me as the monster. She'll see you as one too."
Dante shoved him away, chest heaving, fury threatening to break loose. But Lucian only laughed, raising his glass in mock toast.
"Here's to Matteo," Lucian said softly, his grin wicked. "And to the chains of blood we'll never escape."
Dante stood frozen, the laughter clawing at his ears, until finally he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.
But even as he walked away, Lucian's words clung to him like a curse.
Because he was right.