The storm didn't calm when Dante left.
If anything, it grew louder, like the sky itself sensed something was shifting.
Aria stood near the window long after his car vanished into the night, her hand pressed to the cold glass. The trees bowed in the wind, branches clawing like hands trying to reach the house.
Trying to reach her.
Her heartbeat was uneven, tripping over itself in a rhythm that felt both terrifying and familiar. Dante's kiss still lingered on her mouth, fire on top of fear, want layered over the crackling dread in her chest.
She should've pushed him away.
Should've reminded herself that their marriage was an arrangement, a transaction, a gilded cage.
But she didn't.
Because when Dante touched her…
For a second, the cage didn't feel like a prison.
It felt like protection.
