I don't remember much of the car ride.
Just the hum of the engine and the way the city lights disappeared behind us, one by one, until there was nothing left but darkness.
The woman who sits beside me says nothing. She's dressed in black again, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Every now and then, she glances at me — not cruelly, but with that same cold patience. I want to ask her where we're going, what's happening, but my throat feels tight. The words die before they reach my mouth.
When the car slows, I press my palms together to stop them from shaking. We turn past tall iron gates that open without a sound. The driveway stretches forever, lined with trees that look like shadows in the night. Lights flicker across the gravel, reflecting off a mansion that seems to rise out of the darkness like it's been waiting for me.
It's beautiful — and terrifying.
Marble columns, wide steps, glass windows that glow from the inside. Everything is too quiet. Too perfect.
When the car stops, the driver gets out first. He opens my door, but doesn't offer a hand. The air smells like rain and stone. My heels scrape the ground as I step out, unsteady.
The mansion looks even larger up close. The doors are twice my height, carved with patterns I don't understand. The woman beside me nods to one of the guards, and the doors swing open without a sound.
Inside, the air is warm — scented with wood and something faintly smoky. The floor gleams like water. A chandelier hangs above us, its light scattering in sharp fragments across the walls.
For a second, I forget to breathe.
I've never seen anything like this. It doesn't feel real.
The woman gestures for me to follow. My steps echo in the hall, small and uncertain. Portraits line the walls — faces of men and women dressed in black, their eyes watching.
"Where am I?" I whisper, though I'm not sure I want the answer.
She doesn't reply.
We stop in front of a staircase that curves like a wave, leading up into shadows. Another door opens ahead of us, and my heart stumbles.
He's there.
The man from before.
Dante.
He stands at the far end of the hallway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of something dark. His suit is still the same, but now I can see him clearly — the sharpness of his jaw, the stillness in his eyes. Black hair brushed back, a hint of stubble like he doesn't bother with perfection because he doesn't need to.
He doesn't speak, not at first. He just studies me.
It feels like he's reading my thoughts — the fear, the anger, the confusion. Everything I'm trying to hide.
The woman bows her head slightly. "She's here."
He nods once, dismissing her. She leaves without another word.
The silence between us feels heavy.
I take a step back before I can stop myself. "Where is Liam?" My voice sounds too small, even to me.
Dante sets his glass down on a table beside him. His movements are calm, deliberate. "He's gone."
"Gone where?"
He doesn't answer.
I feel the panic rising again, sharp and fast. "You can't just—"
"I can," he interrupts softly, his tone calm but final. "You'll learn that soon enough."
Something in the way he says it — the quiet certainty — makes my chest tighten.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice again. "Why am I here?"
He looks at me for a long time before answering. "Because he owed me."
The words hit like a slap. "What does that mean?"
He tilts his head slightly. "It means you're part of the payment."
My knees almost give out. I grab the railing beside me, the metal cold under my fingers. "I'm not—" I stop, my breath breaking. "I'm not something you can own."
Dante's gaze doesn't waver. "You're right," he says quietly. "But for now, you belong here."
I can't tell if that's a threat or something else. His tone isn't cruel — it's worse. It's calm. Final.
He steps closer, and I flinch without meaning to.
He notices.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, his voice low. "Not unless you give me a reason to."
The words don't comfort me.
He turns slightly toward the hallway. "You'll stay in the east wing. Rosa will show you to your room. Dinner is at seven. Don't wander."
Then he's gone, his footsteps fading into the distance.
I stand there for a long moment, frozen. My thoughts spin and crash into each other — Liam's face, the papers, the crowd, the way Dante looked at me like he already knew everything.
A door opens quietly behind me. A woman in her fifties steps out, wearing a simple uniform and a kind, tired expression. "Miss Arden?"
I nod, though my voice won't come.
She gestures gently. "Come with me. I'll show you where you'll be staying."
Her tone is softer than anyone's has been all night, but that doesn't make it easier. I follow her up the staircase, each step heavier than the last. The mansion feels endless — long halls, high ceilings, too much silence.
When we reach the east wing, Rosa opens a door and steps aside. "This will be your room."
The space inside is large, too beautiful for someone who doesn't belong. A bed big enough for three people, white curtains, gold trim, a window that overlooks a garden glowing faintly in the moonlight.
It looks like a dream, but I can't feel any of it.
Rosa clears her throat softly. "There are clothes in the wardrobe. The bathroom is through there." She hesitates, then adds, "If you need anything, call for me. But… try not to make him wait."
"Him?" I ask, even though I know.
She doesn't answer. She just nods once and leaves.
The door clicks shut.
I stand there, staring at the room that's supposed to be mine. The silence presses in.
I move toward the window. Outside, the garden glimmers under the moonlight — roses, fountains, statues that look almost alive. For a second, it feels peaceful. Then I notice the high walls in the distance, tall and solid, with security lights at the corners.
No way out.
I press my forehead against the glass. My reflection stares back — pale skin, messy hair, eyes that look too scared to belong to me.
I whisper his name under my breath. "Dante."
It doesn't sound real.
I sit on the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. My body feels heavy, like every breath takes effort. I try to think — to plan, to understand — but all I can feel is the betrayal burning in my chest.
Liam's voice echoes in my head: Trust me, Arden.
I laugh once, bitter and small.
I don't know how much time passes before I hear footsteps in the hallway — slow, steady, deliberate. My heart jumps.
The door doesn't open. The footsteps stop just outside. For a moment, I think I can feel him there on the other side waiting.
Then the sound fades away.
I exhale shakily, realizing I've been holding my breath.
When I finally lie down, I keep my eyes open. The ceiling above me blurs and shifts in the dim light.
I tell myself I'll leave in the morning. I'll find a way.
But somewhere deep inside, I already know the truth.
There is no leaving this place not yet.
And as much as I hate it, part of me can't stop wondering about the man who now holds the key to my freedom.