Elena barely slept.

The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, leaving the gardens cloaked in mist. She sat at the balcony doors, watching the pale light creep across the horizon, her mind racing with one thought: I have to get out.

Every minute in this mansion tightened Dante’s grip around her life. If she waited, she knew he would break her—not with violence, but with that unbearable intensity, that way his eyes claimed her even when his hands didn’t.

She couldn’t let him win.

The lock on her suite door had clicked after he left last night. She’d checked, rattled, pulled, but the handle wouldn’t turn. She was a prisoner. But the balcony was her chance.

The gardens stretched wide and deep, and beyond them, the city. Guards patrolled, but not constantly. If she could climb down, find cover, slip through the gates before anyone noticed… maybe she had a chance.

Her heart thundered as she pulled a sheet from the bed and began knotting it with trembling fingers. The silk was soft but strong, and she tied it to the iron balcony rail, giving it a sharp tug.

This is insane.

But insanity was better than surrender.

She climbed over the railing, the early morning air cold against her bare arms. Her hands burned as she lowered herself, the sheet biting into her palms.

Her feet hit the stone ledge below, and she crouched, scanning the gardens. Two guards were talking near the far hedge, their voices drifting faintly through the mist. They hadn’t seen her.

Elena’s pulse leapt.

She moved quickly, her nightdress brushing against damp leaves as she slipped into the shadows. Her breath came fast, too loud in her own ears. Every rustle of the garden sounded like a shout.

The iron gates loomed in the distance. Closed, tall, sharp enough to cut skin. But she’d rather bleed than stay.

She darted toward them, her bare feet silent on the wet grass. Just a few more steps—

A hand clamped around her wrist.

Elena gasped, jerking back, but the grip was iron. She spun around and found herself staring into dark eyes she knew too well.

Dante.

He stood half in shadow, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looked infuriatingly calm, as though he’d been waiting.

Her chest heaved. “Let me go.”

His lips curved faintly. “You think I don’t know my own house? My own guards?” He tugged her closer, his grip unyielding. “You think you can run from me?”

“I’ll try every damn day until I succeed.” Her voice cracked with fury, but her chin stayed high.

He studied her, his jaw tightening. “You’re fearless,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Or reckless.”

“Desperate,” she spat.

His gaze darkened, a dangerous storm brewing in his eyes. He yanked her against him, his breath hot against her ear. “Do you know what I do to those who defy me?”

Her heart pounded, but she forced her voice steady. “Kill them?”

“No.” His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “I tame them.”

A shiver ripped down her spine, fury and something more tangled in her veins. She shoved against his chest, but his body didn’t move. He was immovable, unshakable, like a wall of steel.

“Let me go!” she snarled, her fists striking at him.

He caught her wrists easily, pinning them between their bodies. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was absolute. He leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, his voice low and lethal.

“This is your only warning, bella mia. Try this again, and I won’t be so forgiving.”

“Forgiving?” She laughed bitterly, tears burning her throat. “You kidnapped me. You destroyed my life. And you think I’ll just accept it?”

Something flickered in his eyes then—something raw, almost human—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. His grip tightened, his control snapping back into place.

“You belong to me now,” he said coldly. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

“I will never belong to you.”

Silence hung between them, thick and crackling. Then, slowly, he released her wrists—but not her gaze.

He stepped back, but not far enough to give her space. His presence still pressed against her, his shadow swallowing her whole.

“Come,” he ordered, his voice clipped. “Before I change my mind about being gentle.”

Elena’s legs shook as she followed him back through the misty gardens, the weight of his threat heavy in her chest. She hated him. She hated the way he controlled her, the way he looked at her like she was already his.

But the worst part—the part she would never admit—was the truth that scared her more than any threat.

Her body had reacted to him.

And that terrified her most of all.

---

Back inside, Dante dismissed the guards with a sharp glance. He guided her back up the staircase, through the corridors, and into her suite.

When the door closed behind them, Elena whirled on him. “What now? You’ll lock me in? Chain me to the bed?”

His eyes burned. “Don’t tempt me.”

Her breath caught, fury colliding with fear. “You’re a monster.”

“Maybe.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “But I’m the monster who keeps you alive.”

She trembled, but refused to step back. “I’d rather die free than live as your possession.”

Dante’s jaw flexed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. For a moment, she thought he might strike her, punish her. But instead, he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as though fighting a war inside himself.

When he opened them again, his control was back—icy, unbreakable.

“You test me, Elena,” he said softly, almost dangerously soft. “And one day, you’ll find out just how far I’ll go when I’m pushed.”

He turned then, striding toward the door. His parting words chilled her blood.

“Tonight, you dine with me. Don’t make me come fetch you.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Elena trembling, breathless, and furious.

She pressed her back against the wall, sliding down until she sat on the cold marble floor, her fists clenched in her lap.

Her escape had failed.

But she wasn’t done fighting.

If Dante Moretti thought she would break… he didn’t know her at all.