Aria's POV
The automobile rushed across the city like it was running from the night itself.
I sat stiffly alongside Dante, my fingers gripped in my lap, heart still rushing. The leather seat was cold beneath me, but his presence burned-close, solid, threatening. He hadn't let go of my hand since we exited the alley, his thumb caressing over my knuckles as if telling me I was still real.
"They came for me?" I eventually whispered. "Why?"
His jaw stiffened. Streetlights slid across his face, revealing tiredness beneath the control. "Because someone wanted you seen," he added. "And now you have been."
A chill crawled up my spine. "Seen by who?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, voice low. "Tell me something, Aria. Has anyone ever cautioned you to stay away from particular people? Certain names?"
My breath hitched. My aunt's voice echoed in my head-Some doors should never be opened.
"I... I don't know," I responded. "My parents died when I was little. No one ever explained anything."
His hold tightened, not harsh, but possessive. Protective.
"That's what I was terrified of."
The automobile slowed, pulling into an underground garage buried behind a quiet building. The doors closed behind us with a final, echoing thump that felt my chest tighten. No way out. No witnesses.
Dante went out first, examining the shadows before helping me out. The instant my feet touched the earth, I felt it-eyes watching, danger humming beneath the silence.
Inside, the room was gloomy and simple. Safe, maybe. But safety felt like an illusion.
"You'll remain here tonight," he said. "No windows. No phones. No one knows this location exists."
"That's meant to make me feel better?" I asked quietly.
He drew closer, towering now, his voice falling. "It's the only place I can protect you."
Protect me.
The word settled somewhere deep, weighty and menacing. "You barely know me," I said.
His gaze focused onto mine. "I know enough."
He stretched out, fingers brushing my wrist, then paused-hesitation blazing over his face. "May I?"
I nodded before I could think.
He rotated my wrist carefully, displaying a small, crescent-shaped mark just beneath my skin. I'd had it my whole life. I believed it was a birthmark.
His face went still.
"That's not a birthmark," he remarked gently.
My heart stuttered. "Then what is it?"
His eyes lifted to mine, dark and unreadable. "It's a mark," he replied. "One that binds you to a family older and deadlier than mine."
A knock boomed suddenly through the flat.
Sharp. Controlled. Deliberate.
Dante grabbed me behind him swiftly, revolver already in his hand.
"No one knows this place," I muttered.
His voice was ice. "Someone does now."
The knock came again.
And this time, it wasn't asking.
