Chapter 16 fractures
981 Words
The sound of glass shattering ripped through the estate.
Dante’s fist slammed into the marble wall, blood dripping down his knuckles, but the burn barely registered.
“f**k,” he muttered, breath ragged.
She was getting under his skin. Every goddamn word. Every glare. Every time Aria looked at him like she wasn’t terrified, but defiant—as if daring him to break.
It should’ve been easy to keep his distance.
But nothing about this was f*****g easy anymore.
The door creaked.
Luca stood there, unreadable as always, eyes flicking to the bloodied glass on the floor.
“You good?” Luca asked, though his tone said don’t bullshit me.
“No,” Dante growled, flexing his hand. “She’s a f*****g problem.”
Luca smirked faintly. “Yeah. You always did have s**t taste in problems.”
Dante shot him a look but didn’t deny it.
The estate was crawling with enemies, the council breathing down his neck, Bianca scheming her next power grab — and somehow, the most dangerous threat was the girl with fire in her eyes and a target on her back.
“Rosetti moves again, I want blood,” Dante snapped. “No negotiations.”
Luca nodded, but his stare lingered, curious.
“You sure that’s all this is?” Luca pushed. “War? Or are you losing your edge over a girl?”
Dante’s laugh was low, humorless. “I don’t lose my edge.”
But even as the words left his mouth, he wasn’t so sure anymore.
And that scared the s**t out of him.
Aria’s hands trembled, but not from fear.
From rage.
From frustration.
From the fact that every second she stayed in this f*****g mansion, she could feel her freedom slipping like sand through her fingers.
The balcony doors slammed behind her as she stepped into the cool night air, gulping down shaky breaths.
The estate stretched beneath her — marble towers, iron gates, luxury wrapped around danger.
But it wasn’t the walls trapping her.
It was him.
Dante Moretti.
Arrogant. Ruthless. Terrifyingly controlled.
And somehow, the bastard had crawled under her skin.
“f**k,” Aria muttered, running a hand through her hair.
The city lights bled into the sky beyond the cliffs. Somewhere out there, Bianca plotted. Rosetti circled like a vulture. Enemies lined up, knives aimed at the throne—and Aria was caught dead center in this goddamn war.
But she wasn’t going down easy.
Her fingers slipped to the hidden blade tucked at her thigh. Just in case.
“Planning to stab me, bella?” a low voice drawled from the shadows.
Her heart kicked into her throat.
Dante leaned casually against the stone pillar, dark eyes glinting, shirt sleeves rolled, blood still crusted on his knuckles.
“Don’t tempt me,” Aria shot back, forcing calm into her voice.
He approached, slow, dangerous, every inch radiating authority that made her pulse spike for all the wrong reasons.
“You’re not leaving,” Dante stated flatly, stopping a breath away.
“Watch me.”
His hand lifted—rough fingers ghosting her jaw, tilting her face toward his.
“Keep pushing me,” Dante warned, voice low, dangerous. “See what happens.”
Heat curled low in her stomach, unwanted but impossible to ignore.
For one reckless second, she almost closed the space between them.
But survival screamed louder.
“You don’t scare me,” she lied, stepping back.
Dante’s smirk was lethal. “You should.”
And as she disappeared into the dark halls, her heart pounded with one brutal truth:
She was already in too deep.
Aria barely made it halfway down the corridor before Dante’s hand snatched her wrist, spinning her back hard against the marble wall.
The impact stole her breath.
His body caged hers in, lean muscle pressed too close, dark eyes burning into her like wildfire.
She should’ve been afraid.
Instead, heat flushed through her veins, reckless and infuriating.
“I told you to stop running,” Dante bit out, his voice low, dangerous. His breath brushed her cheek, scent of smoke and whiskey threading between them.
Aria glared, pulse spiking. “And I told you to f**k off.”
His jaw flexed, tension rippling under his skin.
“Keep pushing me, bella, and you’ll see exactly how far I’ll go.”
She shoved at his chest, but it was like trying to move a goddamn brick wall.
The worse part? The pull between them wasn’t just physical—it was magnetic. A f****d-up, dangerous gravity that made her want to hate him—and want him—in the same goddamn breath.
Dante’s hand slid from her wrist to her jaw, rough thumb tracing her pulse point.
“You’ve got no idea the enemies circling you right now,” he warned, voice dropping to something raw, something personal. “Bianca’s not bluffing. Rosetti wants your head. And Nic? He’d sell your soul for the right price.”
Aria’s throat tightened, fear twisting under her ribs—but she forced steel into her voice.
“Then let me go.”
A dark laugh rumbled in his chest. “You think I can?”
His forehead lowered to hers, breath shared, tension bleeding into something heavier.
“You’ve already f****d up my plans,” Dante confessed, voice jagged, raw. “I should toss you on the first plane out. But I won’t.”
Aria’s heart stuttered.
For the first time, the brutal, fearless king of this empire looked…breakable.
“Why?” she asked, voice cracking despite herself.
Dante’s eyes burned into hers. “Because you’re mine now.”
Her pulse slammed through her veins as the words settled, dangerous and inevitable.
And when his lips finally crashed onto hers—hungry, furious, desperate—Aria didn’t stop him.
She kissed him back like it was the last mistake she’d ever make.
- Writer
