"He "loves" her like a collector loves a rare diamond—he will polish her and keep her in a gold case, but if she tries to leave, he would rather crush her than let someone else have her."
The first thing I felt wasn't the light. It was the movement.
A slow, rhythmic swaying that made my stomach churn and my head throb. I gasped, my eyes snapping open as I bolted upright in a bed that was too soft.
My breath came in jagged hitches as I looked around. The room was opulent—white oak walls, gold accents, and a massive porthole that looked out into an endless horizon of blue.
I scrambled out of the bed. I rushed to the window, my hands pressed against the glass.
"No," I whispered, the word dying in my throat
Water. Nothing but water.
I turned and stumbled toward the door, throwing it open. I ran down a narrow, polished corridor until I reached the deck. The sun hit me like a physical blow.
I stood on the edge of a massive, white super-yacht—a floating fortress of glass and steel cutting through the ocean.
We were in the middle of nowhere.
Memories began to flood back. The basement. The headless men. The injections. The Red Room.
Dante had told me Kieran would come. He had promised that by the time my husband arrived, we would be ghosts. He was right, I realized, a sob breaking from my chest. Kieran was at that mansion right now, standing in an empty room, while I was being carried further and further away into a blue abyss.
Why was this happening? Why couldn't I just be happy? Why was my life a cycle of being traded from one monster to another?
"You're awake, darling."
The voice was smooth, cool, and utterly terrifying.
I spun around, my back hitting the railing. Dante was standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a lounge chair, a glass of something amber in his hand. He looked perfectly at home, his mismatched eyes reflecting the sunlight.
"Beautiful view, isn't it?" he said pleasantly. "Surrounded by water. No noise. No interruptions. Just us."
"Dante, what do you want?" My voice trembled, despite my effort to stay strong. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Please… just let me go."
Dante sighed, a sound of genuine disappointment. He walked toward me, his movements fluid and predatory.
"It seems that thick, beautiful skull of yours just can't register the truth, Aurielle. I want you." He stepped into my personal space, his shadow blotting out the sun. "I will never leave you. I can't. You are the air in my lungs, the only thing that makes this boring world worth painting."
"You're sick!" I screamed, shaking my head as the tears finally spilled over. "You're crazy, Dante! You need help! I can never belong to you. I am a married woman! I have a husband! I have a child!"
The air around us turned to ice.
The playful mask Dante wore didn't just slip—it shattered. His jaw tightened, and a vein throbbed in his temple. He hated those words. He hated that I had a life that didn't start and end with him.
Before I could blink, his hand was in my hair.
He didn't just grab it; he yanked, his fingers winding deep into the roots as he forced my head back. I let out a cry of pain as he surged forward, pinning me against the railing.
Then, he leaned me over.
The wind whipped my hair as he forced my torso back over the edge. Below me, the massive propellers churned the water into a violent, white froth. One slip, one push, and I would be shredded by the machinery of the ship.
"Never," he hissed, his face inches from mine, his eyes burning with a terrifying, possessive fire. "Never say you belong to another man again. Did I make myself clear?"
"Dante, please!" I clawed at his wrist, my feet barely touching the deck as I dangled over the churning sea.
"Say it," he commanded, his grip tightening until I thought my scalp would tear. "Say you are mine. Tell me who you belong to."
"I... I..."
"Say it!"
"I'm yours!" I shrieked, the terror of the deep blue water below breaking my spirit. "I'm yours, Dante!"
"I can't hear you over the waves, Tesoro," he purred, though his eyes remained cold. "Say it again. Make me believe it."
"I'm yours!" I sobbed, my voice raw. "I belong to you! I'm yours!"
He held me there for a second longer, letting the fear sink into my bones, letting me feel the spray of the ocean on my skin. Then, with a sudden, jerky movement, he pulled me back onto the solid deck.
I collapsed at his feet, gasping for air, my body shaking uncontrollably.
Dante smoothed his suit, his calm returning as if he hadn't just almost murdered me. He looked down at me with a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Good," he said, reaching down to pat my cheek. "That's my girl. Now, let's go inside. It's time for lunch."
One moment I was standing stiffly beside the dining table, and the next, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me down onto his lap as though I weighed nothing.
My body locked, my spine rigid, every instinct screaming at me to fight—but the grip on my waist tightened, firm and possessive, anchoring me there.
"Eat," he said softly—not a request.
I obeyed.
His hand remained at my waist, thumb pressing slow, deliberate circles against my hip, as if he were reminding my body who it belonged to. I hated the way my breath hitched. Hated the warmth curling low in my stomach even more.
Disgust should've been all I felt.
But it wasn't.
Dante noticed.
Of course he did.
A satisfied hum vibrated against my neck before his mouth brushed my skin—light, almost affectionate. My fingers curled involuntarily against the fabric of his suit, and the shame nearly crushed me.
I despised myself for it.
As if sensing my thoughts, his teeth grazed my neck sharply this time—not gentle. A warning. A claim.
I gasped.
"Tomorrow," he said calmly, pulling back just enough for me to see his eyes. "You'll finally be mine. Properly."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"What are you talking about?" I whispered.
His smile was slow. Certain. Terrifying.
"A private island," he continued, as though discussing the weather. "Everything is ready. The priest. The arrangements."
Marriage.
The word didn't need to be said aloud—it echoed anyway.
"We'll be there by tomorrow," Dante finished, fingers tightening at my waist. "And then I'll claim what has always been mine."
I stared at him, horror and disbelief tangling in my chest.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear once more.
"I'm going to marry you, Aurielle."