I'M HIS ALONE

CHAPTER 8

RESISTANCE

The encounter with Benedetti changed something in Bella.

She had been slowly, reluctantly, letting her guard down around Dante. Finding things to appreciate-the art collection, the thoughtful conversations, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. But Benedetti's words had been a cold splash of reality. She was a "kidnapped little plaything." A scandal. An "indiscretion" that could get Dante in trouble with the people who governed his violent world.

And more than that, Benedetti had looked at her with a hunger that made her skin crawl. A hunger that said, if Dante ever fell, she would be the first thing his enemies claimed.

She needed to escape. Not just for herself, but because her presence was putting Dante in danger. Because the longer she stayed, the more she risked becoming exactly what Benedetti had called her-a plaything, a possession, a woman who had lost herself in her captor's world.

She spent the next day exploring the estate with new eyes, looking for weaknesses. The perimeter was fenced and patrolled, but the forest beyond the gardens seemed less guarded. If she could make it to the tree line, she might be able to lose herself in the woods, find a road, flag down a passing car...

It was a desperate plan. But she was desperate.

She waited until after dinner, when Dante retreated to his study for his nightly business calls. The estate settled into its evening routine-guards changing shifts, staff cleaning up, lights dimming in unused rooms. Bella changed into dark leggings and a black sweater, tied her hair back, and slipped out of her room through the French doors to the balcony.

The balcony had a trellis covered in climbing roses. It was a long drop to the ground-maybe fifteen feet-but there was a drainage pipe that looked sturdy enough to hold her weight. She had climbed trees as a child. How hard could this be?

Very hard, as it turned out.

The descent was terrifying, her heart hammering as she gripped the cold metal pipe, her feet searching for purchase on the stone wall. Twice she nearly fell, her fingers cramping, her arms shaking with effort. But desperation lent her strength, and eventually, her feet touched the soft grass of the garden.

She didn't pause to celebrate. She ran.

The gardens were a maze of hedges and flower beds, but she had walked them enough to know the general direction of the forest. She stayed low, moving from shadow to shadow, her breath coming in short gasps. The night was cool, the sky overcast, no moon to illuminate her escape. Perfect.

She reached the edge of the garden and sprinted across the open lawn toward the tree line. Almost there. Almost free. Her heart soared with the promise of liberty, of returning to her old life, of-

A hand closed around her arm, yanking her to a stop with brutal force.

Bella screamed, struggling against the grip, but then she was spun around and found herself staring into Dante's furious face.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

"Let me go!" She tried to pull free, but his grip was iron.

"I asked you a question, Bella. Where were you going?"

"Away from you! Away from this place! I can't stay here, Dante-I can't be your prisoner, your pet, your-your kidnapped plaything!"

Something flashed in his eyes-pain, maybe, or anger. "Is that what you think you are? A pet?"

"What else am I? You took me from my home, you locked me in your mansion, you parade me around like a trophy-"

"I have treated you with nothing but respect!" Dante's voice rose, his control slipping. "I've given you luxury, comfort, freedom within these walls. I've shared my art, my home, my time with you. I've been patient-more patient than I've ever been with anyone in my life. And this is how you repay me? By sneaking out like a thief in the night?"

"I am not yours to keep!" Bella shouted, tears streaming down her face. "I don't care how nice you are, how gentle, how charming. You stole me, Dante. You took everything from me. My school, my friends, my future. And no amount of fancy dinners or pretty dresses can change that."

Dante stared at her, his chest heaving, his grip still tight on her arm. For a moment, she saw something crack in his expression-something vulnerable and lost. Then his jaw tightened, and the mask of the Don slammed back into place.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I did take you. And I won't apologize for it, because given the choice, I would do it again. Every time. Without hesitation." He pulled her closer, his free hand cupping her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. "But you are wrong about one thing, Bella. You are mine. Not as a pet, not as a prisoner. But because I looked at you and I knew-knew-that you were meant for me. That I would spend the rest of my life wanting you, needing you, protecting you. That without you, I am nothing but the monster everyone thinks I am."

"Dante-" Bella's voice broke.

"I can't let you go, Bella. I physically can't. The thought of you out there, unprotected, vulnerable to men like Benedetti who would use you and discard you without a second thought-it destroys me." His thumb traced her trembling lower lip, his eyes dark with emotion. "But I can try harder. I can be better. I can give you more freedom, more choices, more of everything you need to be happy here. Just... don't run from me. Please. I'm begging you."

Bella had never seen him like this. The powerful, ruthless Don reduced to pleading, his voice rough with desperation, his eyes shining with an emotion she was afraid to name. He looked... broken. And it broke something in her too.

"I don't know how to stay," she whispered. "I don't know how to be the person you want me to be."

"Then be yourself," he said. "Just yourself. Angry, defiant, impossible. I don't care. Just... stay."

She didn't know who moved first. Maybe she reached for him, or maybe he pulled her in. But suddenly she was in his arms, her face pressed against his chest, his heartbeat thundering in her ear. He held her like she was fragile and precious and infinitely dear, his hand cradling her head, his lips pressing against her hair.

"I hate you," she whispered, not meaning it.

"I know," he whispered back. "And I deserve it."

They stood there in the dark garden, the captive and her captor, holding each other like the world was ending. And Bella realized, with a sinking heart, that she wasn't sure which one of them was truly trapped.

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