"You're a fool, Dante. You think you can protect her?" Logan's voice rang out across the room, cold and mocking. "She's mine. She always was."
Dante's grip on the chair tightened, his knuckles white as he stood by the window, staring out into the night, his eyes dark with barely contained fury. "Not anymore," he growled, each word thick with the weight of a promise that neither Logan nor Aria could escape.
Aria stood quietly behind him, her presence barely noticeable but her pulse racing. Every word Logan spoke cut through her like a knife, a constant reminder of the past she was trying to escape. She could feel the air crackle with tension between the two men, but her heart—her heart was a battlefield of its own.
Logan's sharp laughter broke the silence, sending a shiver down her spine. "You think you can change her, Dante? You think she'll ever be yours? You don't know her like I do. You never will."
