Bound by His Revenge

Chapter 5 – The Devil’s Warning

Dante POV

The mansion slept, but I never did.

Silence ruled these halls after midnight, broken only by the tick of the grandfather clock and the distant echo of my own footsteps. Darkness was an old friend, a familiar cloak, one I wore long before Isabella Romano ever crossed my path.

And yet tonight, the quiet was heavier. It carried the weight of silk and chains.

I paused outside her chamber door, her hand resting against the polished wood. I knew she was awake. I could feel it—like heat radiating through the walls. Fear sharp, restless. It bled into me even if I didn’t want it to.

The lock clicked as I turned the key. The hinges groaned softly, and I stepped inside.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in the cream gown I’d forced her into hours ago. Her hair fell loose, tangled from restless hands. Her eyes lifted when she heard me, wide and burning.

She didn’t speak. Neither did I.

For a moment, the only sound was the whisper of the door closing behind me.

I should have left her to stew in silence. I should have kept my distance, let the chains of her father’s debt bind her without words. But some mistakes can’t be resisted, and mine was the pull to remind her of what she had stepped into.

I moved closer, slowly and deliberately, letting my shadow swallow the light of her lamp. “Do you know why you’re still breathing, Isabella?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came. She was brave, I’d give her that—but bravery without sense is nothing but suicide.

I leaned down, my hand braced against the carved wood of her bedpost. My voice was low, meant for her alone. “Because you belong to me now. Not as a bride. Not as a woman. As collateral. Until your father crawls out of whatever hole he’s hiding in with what he owes, you live at my mercy.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’ll never belong to you.”

Defiance. Sharp, dangerous. My hand curled against the bedpost before I forced it to relax. I could have broken it in half, but breaking her spirit too soon would ruin the game.

I let a slow, humorless smile touch my mouth. “Say that again after I’ve buried another one of your father’s men. Say it when you’ve watched me bleed loyalty out of his soldiers. We’ll see if you still feel untouched then.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. She hated me, and she wanted me to see it. That fire would burn her alive if she wasn’t careful.

I lowered myself to her eye level, so close I could see my reflection in her gaze. “Listen carefully, Isabella. "There’s only one thing that will sign your death warrant faster than your father’s silence—betrayal.”

Her brows furrowed, and I continued, my tone colder than steel.

“You are in my house. My men watch your every step. My word alone decides whether you eat, breathe, or sleep without a blade against your throat. If you ever attempt to run, if you whisper to anyone outside these walls, if you so much as think about crossing me—”

I leaned closer, my breath brushing her ear. “I will bury you myself. And I’ll make sure it’s not quick.”

She flinched, but she didn’t look away. That damned Romano blood—prideful, stubborn, unyielding. It reminded me too much of myself.

I straightened, brushing invisible dust off my suit sleeve. “Consider this your only warning. A devil’s mercy doesn’t stretch twice.”

For a moment, I thought she might spit words back at me. But instead, she stayed silent, fists trembling in her lap.

That silence was louder than any scream.

I turned toward the door, but something pulled my gaze back. She looked small on that silk bed, fragile in a way that pressed against the edges of my chest. I hated the sight. The weakness was poison, and I didn’t allow poison near me.

So why did it matter that her eyes glistened with unshed tears?

I forced myself to look away, to grip the handle until the urge to stay shattered. The door closed with a heavy thud behind me, sealing her inside.

As I walked down the hall, the words I’d spoken replayed in my head. They had been meant for her, but perhaps they were meant for me, too.

Never betray me.

It was more than a warning. It was a promise I needed her to understand. Betrayal was the one sin I would never forgive—not from my enemies, not from my blood, and certainly not from the girl fate had shackled to my side.

Because in this house, love didn’t save you. Loyalty did.

And Isabella Romano had none.