✧˖°.⊹📖⊹.°˖✧
Dante leads me through narrow streets. Cars hum in the distance, people starting with day, oblivious to the chaos we just escaped.
Eventually, we reach a building tucked between a shuttered bakery and a graffiti covered wall. Dante knocks three times, pauses, then a small panel slides open. A wary face peers out.
"Dante," the figure mutters, voice low. A nod, and the door opens. The man steps back into the shadows of the hallway, leaving us alone in the main room. The inside smells faintly of dust, old leather and gun oil.
"We'll be safe here," Dante says, eyes scanning the room. "Until we figure what to do next."
I step inside. My heart is still racing, but the silence of the house- feels almost unnatural. Almost safe.
Dante sits across from me, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp. "What were you running from when I met you?"
The words hang in the air. My chest tightens. Should I tell him? He saved me. Twice. That should be enough for me to trust him with this. Right?
I swallow hard, words catching in my throat. "My... my father," I begin, voice trembling. "He's... controlling. I was forced into a marriage I didn't want. I couldn't stay here. So... I ran."
He leans back, studying me. "And you never... you never really knew what your family does? What your father is involved in?"
I shake my head, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve. "I... I thought I did. I thought I understood. But I never really knew. I just... I just knew fear. I knew he was... controlling. Dangerous, in his own way."
Fear. The words taste bitter. My mind drifts to the nights in the mansion- the slam of doors, the belt hitting wood, muffled sobs from my mother behind closed doors.
I remember holding my knees in a corner, praying to stay invisible, praying not to be next. Praying and feeling utterly powerless.
The sounds, the smells the weight of helplessness- it's all too vivid.
Dante's gaze softens. I see it- the hard, unflinching side of him softens.
He moves next to me, shifting closer on the worn sofa, the space between us shrinking, his arm brushing against mine.
My chest tightens, heart hammering against my ribs.
"You shouldn't have had to go through that," he murmurs, "and no one was there to protect you from it?"
I shake my head, voice barely audible. "No... There wasn't... I didn't have a choice."
His hand hovers near mine, unsure, hesitant, as if trying to comfort me. I forget how to breath, aware of the closeness, his warmth pressing against me, the smell of leather, smoke, something sharp wrapping around me.
He tilts his head, eyes searching mine, and for a heartbeat, the world shrinks to the space between us- as if everything else vanished.
My breath catches as he leans just a fraction closer. I can feel his warmth, the tension in his body, the muscles tightening against mine.