“Dante Lachlan…” Annalise read the name beneath the half-covered painting, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Suddenly, a deafening boom rattled the walls.

She jumped and spun around. A flash of lightning lit up the window, so blinding it seared her vision for a second. Darkness followed just as fast, chased by thunder that cracked through the house like a whip.

The ferret at her feet squeaked, then scurried behind her leg, trembling.

Annalise crept toward the window, her heart pounding like a drum. Outside, the tree near the waterfall was blackened and broken, its trunk split down the middle, splinters littering the soaked grass below.

“It hit that?” she murmured. “Why does this place keep getting stranger?”

She turned away and made her way to the dim kitchen. The wooden floor creaked beneath each step, sharp and jarring. Rain lashed the windows like angry fingers, thunder rumbling again above the roof.

The ferret followed close, never leaving her shadow.

She lit a lantern with shaking hands, its warm glow flickering against the walls. “Please tell me this house doesn’t have ghosts too,” she muttered.

Peeking into the living room, she found Dante still on the sofa—unmoving, asleep. A wave of relief swept over her.

She padded closer and crouched beside him.

“Dante Lachlan,” she whispered again, now certain of his name. It felt strange on her tongue but also oddly familiar. How could that be?

She studied his face, beginning to wonder if this man really owned that name: Dante Lachlan.

His breathing remained calm, his expression peaceful - still in a deep sleep.

“Why didn’t you help me before?” she asked quietly. “Were you sick?”

His stillness tugged at a memory—her grandfather, slipping into sudden deep sleeps without warning. Days would pass before he stirred again. It terrified everyone. But at least he’d had family around. People who waited, who cared.

Dante had no one.

“Looks like I’m the one stuck watching over you now,” she whispered, her voice soft. “I wasn’t trying to break in, you know. I was running… from people I thought I could trust. They turned on me and wanted me gone.”

She sat back, staring at the fading bruises on her hands. They still ached, but the pain had dulled. Her leg barely hurt now, thanks to that leaf the little ferret had brought her.

The creature was curled up beside her again, asleep and warm.

A gust of wind rattled the windowpane. She shivered, then instinctively leaned a little closer to Dante. His body radiated heat, like a quiet fire in the middle of winter.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she whispered, resting her head near his shoulder. “Even if you didn’t mean to. Thank you.”

The rain softened to a steady patter, filling the silence. Her eyelids grew heavy, and slowly, as she listened to the water trickling down outside, sleep pulled her under.

...

The Next Morning

Annalise bolted upright, gasping.

Hands were gripping her wrists tight.

Her eyes flew open.

Dante.

He was awake, leaning over her. His face was twisted with fury, his grip vice-like on her arms. His dark hair was messy, wild. His eyes burned into hers—sharp and livid as though he was going to eat her alive.

“Why are you still here?” he growled, voice low and rough.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her throat felt dry, her heart thundering in her chest.

“You’re quiet now?” he snapped. “Fine. Let’s see if you can stay that way—”

His hands moved toward her clothes.

Annalise’s pulse spiked like a struck bell.

“Wait—please!” she cried, voice shaking. “I can explain!”

He froze, hovering. His eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping in.

“I’m not here to hurt you or steal anything,” she said breathlessly. “I swear. On my life.”

Something flickered in his expression. His glare wasn’t quite as sharp now.

The Moon Goddess. The painting from yesterday flashed across her mind—the silver light, the feeling in her chest.

She pressed a hand to her heart. “I swear to the Moon Goddess. If I’m lying, may lightning strike me down. May I never meet my fated mate.”

The words hung in the silence.

Dante stared at her, unmoving. Searching.

Then slowly, he let go.

Annalise released a shaky breath and sat up, brushing herself off. Her dress had torn again. One more rip and it’d be gone entirely.

“Leave,” he said, turning away. His voice was still cold, but the blade in it had dulled.

She hesitated. “Um… I’d love to, but sadly I can’t. Not yet.”

His head snapped back, eyes narrowing again.

“The bridge,” she whispered. “After you fainted… it collapsed.”

His face darkened. “Collapsed?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I swear, I didn’t! Please, Mr. Lachlan—”

He froze.

That look—he wasn’t angry. Not exactly.

“I saw your name,” she said quickly. “On one of the paintings. I wasn’t snooping, I just… it was uncovered.”

CRASH!

Glass shattered somewhere deep in the house.

They both stiffened.

Without a word, Dante bolted toward the sound. Wind rushed past her like a gust from nowhere.

Annalise blinked. 'No normal person can move like that.'

Shaking her confusion off, she ran after him, all the way to the kitchen entrance where she came to a halt.

A small figure crouched by the window—barefoot, wearing an oversized, filthy shirt. Tangled hair veiled her face as she hunched over a pot.

The pot Annalise had used for soup the day before.

The girl looked up. Her face was streaked with dirt. Her golden eyes locked on Dante.

Annalise turned to him just in time to see the shift.

He lunged at the girl, arm outstretched—

But she was faster. She slipped away, flipped onto the counter, and landed across the room in a single, fluid motion.

Annalise’s breath caught.

The girl landed in front of her.

Wild, sharp, animal-like eyes stared at her.

Annalise raised her hands. “H-Hey… let’s talk, okay?”

A low growl rose behind the girl.

Annalise glanced past her—Dante again. Charging, like a storm with a heartbeat.

Without thinking, she threw herself forward and shoved the girl aside.

They hit the floor hard.

The girl didn’t move.

“Hey! Wake up!” Annalise shook her. Nothing.

Dante’s footsteps pounded closer.

Annalise scrambled up, shielding the girl. “P-Please! She’s just a kid!”

She didn’t know how the girl got in. It didn’t matter. No matter what, she was just a kid. And who knew, maybe she knew a way out.

Dante looked like a beast on the edge, feral and unthinking.

“I know you’re angry,” she said, voice unsteady. “But this isn’t right. You don’t even know her story! Killing her without listening—how is that fair? Please, let's calm down first.”

But Dante's eyes remained dark, completely unmoved as he slowly walked towards them.

Annalise's fear twisted. “Dante, stop!” she shouted. “You have to listen to me!”

He didn't. His rage continued to crackle in the air, thick and choking.

Panicking, Annalise yelled, "Enough! I said STOP! Just this once, listen to me!”

Her voice turned so loud that it echoed through the kitchen.

And then, finally, Dante stopped.

Only a few feet away, he froze.

His murderous eyes were gone, replaced by wide eyes not of anger or coldness - but strangely, confusingly, of shock.