Alina couldn't breathe. The words on the screen blurred as Dante's presence filled the room.
Your daughter.
"Is this a game to you?" she whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "A deal between criminals?"
Dante's dark eyes softened—just enough to unnerve her. "This isn't about your father, Alina."
"Then what is it about?" she snapped, taking a step back. She hated the vulnerability creeping into her voice, the crack in her armor. "Control? Revenge?"
"It's about you." His voice was calm, deliberate. "You don't belong in his world. Neither do I."
She laughed bitterly. "Spare me the tragic anti-hero act. You're no different from him."
A muscle in Dante's jaw twitched, but he didn't break eye contact. "If I were like him, I wouldn't be offering you a way out."
Her breath hitched. "A way out?"
Dante stepped closer, his gaze never wavering. "Come with me."
Alina's heart pounded violently in her chest. The room felt too small, the air too thick. "Why would I ever trust you?"
"Because I've never lied to you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I never will."
She wanted to scream at him, to push him away, to deny the magnetic pull between them. But the truth lingered between them, undeniable and dangerous.
Before she could respond, the door to the office creaked open.
"Alina?"
Her father's voice froze her in place.
Viktor stepped inside, his sharp gaze flicking between her and Dante. Suspicion clouded his expression. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing," Alina replied quickly, her pulse racing. "I was just leaving."
Viktor's eyes narrowed. "Stay away from her, Corvin."
Dante's lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes held no humor. "I don't take orders well, Viktor."
Alina slipped past them, feeling their tension like a live wire crackling in the air.
Hours later, Alina sat alone in her room, the weight of Dante's words pressing down on her. Come with me. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?
A soft knock at her window made her jump.
When she pulled back the curtain, her breath caught in her throat.
Dante.
She opened the window just enough to glare at him. "Are you insane?"
"Most likely," he murmured, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "But I had to see you."
"You can't keep doing this," she whispered fiercely. "Breaking in. Following me."
"I'll stop," Dante replied softly, "if you tell me you don't want me to."
Alina hated him in that moment. Hated how well he knew her. How he could see through her defenses when no one else could.
But she couldn't say the words.
She didn't want him to stop.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. "When you're ready, Alina… I'll be waiting."
Before she could respond, he was gone—vanishing into the night like a phantom.
But his promise lingered in the darkness.
And Alina knew that no matter how much she tried to resist him, she was already lost.