Aria's POV
You need to leave. Right now.
Dante's standing in my doorway at 7 AM, looking like he hasn't slept. His hair's disheveled, shirt wrinkled, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
And fear.
What happened? I ask, still in my pajamas from our bathroom encounter hours ago.
My father's calling a mandatory family breakfast. Everyone has to attend. His jaw clenches. He's going to question you. Interrogate you. Try to figure out if you're involved with the roses.
My stomach drops. But I'm not!
I know. But someone's framing us, and he's looking for proof. Dante steps inside, closes the door. You need to be careful. Answer his questions, but don't give him ammunition. Don't look at me. Don't defend me. Just... survive the next hour.
What if I can't?
You can. His hand cups my face briefly—warm, solid, real. So different from the ghost's cold touch. You're stronger than you think. Now get dressed. Breakfast is in twenty minutes.
He leaves before I can argue.
I throw on jeans and a sweater with shaking hands, trying to prepare myself for whatever interrogation Vincent has planned.
But how do you prepare for a crime lord who executes his own family members?
The dining room feels like a courtroom.
Vincent sits at the head of the massive table, Mom beside him looking terrified. Dante and Luca sit on one side—Dante's face blank, emotionless. Luca looks uncomfortable.
Isabella and Marco sit opposite them. Isabella's perfect as always, but there's satisfaction in her eyes. Marco smirks like he's watching his favorite show.
Aria, sit here. Vincent gestures to a chair between Mom and Luca. Deliberately separating me from Dante.
I sit, feeling like I'm walking into a trap.
Staff serve breakfast—eggs, bacon, fruit, pastries. Food I can't imagine eating with my stomach in knots.
Vincent waits until everyone has plates. Then he turns to me.
So, Aria. Tell me about yourself.
The question sounds casual. Isn't.
I'm a nursing student. Almost graduated before... I trail off, glancing at Mom.
Before your mother married me, Vincent finishes. And now your education is on hold. That must be frustrating.
It is.
You could finish online, he suggests. We have excellent internet. Private tutors if you need them. Whatever resources you require.
It sounds generous. But I hear the trap underneath—more ways to keep me here. Dependent. Controlled.
That's very kind, I say carefully.
Family takes care of family. Vincent cuts his eggs with precise movements. Which is why I'm concerned about these roses. Someone's sending messages about the Blood Oath. About violations.
My heart pounds. I don't know anything about that.
Don't you? His eyes pin me. Cold. Calculating. You arrived three days ago. The roses started appearing immediately after. That's quite a coincidence.
I didn't place any roses!
No one's accusing you, dear, Isabella interjects smoothly. But you must admit the timing is suspicious. New family member arrives, and suddenly we have warnings about oath violations.
Marco leans forward, grinning. Maybe someone's already broken the oath. Maybe the matriarch is warning us about specific people.
His eyes slide to Dante, then to me.
The implication is clear.
That's enough, Luca says quietly. Aria just got here. She doesn't know our family well enough to violate anything.
Doesn't she? Marco's smirk widens. I've seen how she looks at our dear cousin Dante. And how he looks at her. Very... intense.
Dante's fork clatters against his plate. Watch yourself, Marco.
Or what? You'll defend your new stepsister's honor? Marco laughs. That would be very interesting. Given the oath and all.
I said enough. Vincent's voice cuts like a blade. We're here for breakfast, not speculation.
But the damage is done. Everyone's looking at me and Dante now. Measuring. Judging. Suspecting.
Vincent turns back to me. What are your plans, Aria? Long-term. Do you intend to stay here? Return to your old life? What?
It's a test. Every answer is wrong.
I... I don't know yet.
Understandable. This is a big change. Vincent sips his coffee. But while you're here, you need to understand our rules. The Blood Oath is absolute. No romantic relationships between step-relatives. Ever.
I understand.
Do you? His eyes bore into mine. Because the last girl who said she understood ended up dead in a locked room with her throat cut. Christina Morrison, 2001. She was a lot like you—young, independent, thought she could handle this family.
Mom's hand finds mine under the table, squeezing tight.
I've asked security to investigate the roses, Isabella says. We'll find who's responsible soon enough. And when we do... She doesn't finish, but the threat hangs heavy.
In the meantime, Vincent continues, everyone stays on the compound. No leaving. No unsupervised meetings. And absolutely no violations of family protocol.
His gaze lands on Dante. Is that clear?
Crystal, Dante says flatly.
Breakfast continues in tense silence. I force down a few bites of eggs that taste like ash. Marco keeps watching me with disturbing interest. Isabella's calculating. Luca looks sympathetic but helpless.
And Dante—Dante stares at his plate like he's trying not to look at me.
Because looking at me is dangerous now.
Finally, mercifully, Vincent dismisses us.
I escape into the hallway, desperate for air, for space, for anything but that suffocating room.
I make it five steps before Dante's voice stops me.
Aria. Wait.
I turn. He's standing in an alcove, hidden from view of the dining room.
What? I hiss. Your father literally just threatened me. We can't be seen talking!
I don't care. Dante grabs my wrist, pulls me into the alcove. Pack a bag. You're moving to my wing.
Excuse me?
Someone's targeting you. Leaving roses. Writing messages. Threatening your life. His black eyes burn with intensity. I'm not leaving you alone and unprotected in a room someone can break into whenever they want.
Your wing is worse! If your father finds me there
My wing is private. Secure. With guards I trust absolutely. Dante's grip tightens. And I can protect you there. Keep you safe.
Or get us both killed! I try to pull away. Didn't you hear Marco? He's already suspicious. Moving me to your private rooms will give them exactly the proof they need!
Let them suspect. I'd rather face my father's execution than find you dead from a curse I could have prevented.
The raw emotion in his voice steals my breath.
Dante...
Please. The word sounds like it costs him. Let me protect you. It's the only thing I know how to do.
I should say no. Should maintain distance. Should survive these ten days by avoiding him completely.
But when he looks at me like that—desperate and determined and terrified—I can't.
Fine, I whisper. But we're being careful. Separate rooms. No touching. Nothing that could be misconstrued.
Relief floods his face. Deal. I'll have Tommy move your things this afternoon. Quietly.
He releases my wrist and disappears down the hallway before anyone can see us together.
I lean against the wall, trying to calm my racing heart.
This is insane. Moving into Dante's wing is asking for trouble.
But staying alone in a room where ghosts write messages and roses appear from nowhere is worse.
I'm choosing the lesser danger.
I hope.
That afternoon, a massive man appears at my door—Tommy, Dante's second-in-command. Built like a tank, with kind eyes and an edge that says he's killed people.
Boss sent me, he says simply. I'll move your stuff. You just need to grab essentials.
I pack quickly—clothes, toiletries, my nursing textbooks. Evidence of the normal life I used to have.
Tommy carries everything in one trip, leading me through winding hallways to Dante's private wing.
The space is modern. Secure. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the woods. A living area connecting two bedrooms.
That's your room. Tommy points to the left door. Dante's is on the right. Shared living space in between. Guards will be posted outside 24/7.
Won't that make people suspicious?
Boss doesn't care. Tommy sets down my bags. He cares about keeping you alive. Everything else is secondary.
He leaves, locking the main door behind him.
I'm alone in Dante's private sanctuary, surrounded by his things, his scent, his presence even when he's not here.
This is dangerous. Wrong. Forbidden.
But as I unpack in the bedroom he's given me, I can't ignore the truth I've been avoiding.
I feel safer here than I have since arriving at this nightmare compound.
Because despite everything—the obsession, the stalking, the danger—Dante makes me feel protected.
And that feeling is going to destroy us both.
I'm hanging clothes in the closet when I feel it.
A cold spot. Right behind me.
The temperature drops twenty degrees in seconds.
I spin around.
And there, reflected in the full-length mirror, stands Katerina.
Not faded. Not translucent.
Solid. Real. Here.
Her dead eyes lock on mine.
And she smiles.
Did you really think his room would protect you? Her voice echoes from everywhere. I killed my son in his own bed. What makes you think walls will stop me from taking you?
She raises her hand.
And the mirror shatters.