​Bound by Blood and Border

CHAPTER FOUR

The wind rattled the thick glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a harsh reminder that the world outside was just as chaotic as the storm raging inside my own head. I pulled my knees up to my chest, burying my face in the soft fabric of the oversized robe. It smelled entirely of him—cedar, leather, and the faint, sharp tang of ozone from the storm.

Downstairs, the low murmur of Dante’s voice drifted up the staircase. He was on a satellite phone, his tone clipping through tactical coordinates and border security updates with the cold precision of a commander. Hearing him handle a war so casually made the reality of my situation sink in deeper. He was a predator, a man accustomed to taking whatever he wanted by sheer force or absolute strategy, whether it was a shipping port or a girl who had spent her entire life trying to be invisible.

I closed my eyes, but the darkness offered no escape. Every time I drifted, my mind replayed the suffocating weight of his hands, the possessive intensity of his gaze, and the terrifying realization of how easily my own resolve had splintered under his touch. I was supposed to be a woman of prayer, a person who found strength in discipline and faith. Yet, when Dante had pulled me into his orbit, the rules of the chapel had vanished like smoke.

The bedroom door clicked open, the sound cutting through the rhythmic drumming of the rain.

I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat as a tall shadow blocked the dim light from the hallway. Dante stepped into the room, his bare chest catching the silver gleam of a lightning flash. He carried a fresh glass of water and a small first-aid kit, placing them quietly on the nightstand beside the bed.

He didn't try to climb into the bed, nor did he repeat the demands from downstairs. Instead, he stood over me, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the mattress. The flirty, arrogant smirk was entirely gone, replaced by a quiet, brooding intensity that was somehow even more terrifying.

"Drink the water, Valentina," he said softly, his voice a rough, low baritone that seemed to vibrate in the quiet room.

"I shouldn't be here," I whispered into the dark, my voice cracking with the weight of my regret. "This marriage... this contract. It was supposed to be a shield, Dante. Not... this."

Dante let out a slow, heavy breath, leaning his hip against the edge of the wooden nightstand. He reached down, his large, scarred hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before his thumb gently hooked under my chin, forcing me to look up into his silver-flecked eyes.

"I told you before we signed that paper, Little Bird," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a gentleness that contradicted the violence of his world. "Out here on the border, the old rules don't apply. You wanted a monster to protect you from the wolves. You can't be surprised when the monster acts like one."

"And the vows?" I asked, staring into the dark depths of his eyes. "My promises?"

"Your promises were to a church that couldn't protect you when the cartel came through the front doors," Dante said bluntly, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes. He let go of my chin, stepping back into the shadows of the room. "Sleep, Valentina. Tomorrow we move closer to the southern border, and the trek isn't going to be easy. You’ll need your strength."

He turned and walked toward the door, his movements fluid and completely silent. Just before he pulled the door shut, he paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"And don't bother locking the door," he added, a faint, dangerous hint of his usual flirty tone returning to his voice. "In this house, locks don't keep me out. They just delay me."

With that, the door clicked shut, leaving me alone with the thunder, the rain, and the terrifying knowledge that I was quickly becoming a prisoner of my own desires.