The ride back
1192 Words
The ride back to the estate was suffocating.
Siara sat stiffly beside Dante in the car, her fingers digging into her thighs.
Her hands still felt cold.
The image of Ramon’s lifeless body—blood pooling on the warehouse floor—was burned into her mind.
Dante had executed him without a second thought.
Without remorse.
She had known he was dangerous. Had seen glimpses of his ruthlessness.
But today, she had witnessed the full truth.
This man—the one sitting so calmly beside her—was a monster. And she was trapped in his world.
She glanced at him. His profile was unreadable, his grey eyes focused on the passing cityscape. His expression gave away nothing, as if the weight of what he had just done didn’t bother him in the slightest.
Finally, she found her voice. “What did he do?”
Dante didn’t look at her. “He made a mistake.”
Siara swallowed. “A mistake doesn’t mean he deserved to die.”
Dante’s lips twitched slightly, as if amused. “In this world, mistakes are fatal.”
Siara clenched her jaw. “He was one of your men.”
“He was a liability.”
His voice was calm—too calm. As if he had just stepped on an ant instead of taking a life.
Siara turned away, staring at the city lights. The streets outside were alive with people going about their normal lives.
People who weren’t trapped like her.
“You wanted me to see that,” she muttered.
Dante finally looked at her, his gaze sharp. “I wanted you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That there is no way out,” he said simply.
Siara’s breath caught.
“You belong to me now,” Dante continued, his voice low, deliberate. “You run, you betray me—you’ll end up like him.”
Her fingers curled into fists. “You’re a psychopath.”
Dante chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Siara. I’m a survivor.”
The car slowed as they reached the estate. Marco parked, stepping out to open Dante’s door.
Dante got out first, but before Siara could follow, he leaned back inside, eyes locking onto hers.
“You may hate me now,” he murmured, “but eventually, you’ll understand.”
Siara didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Dante smirked, then turned and walked into the mansion.
She hated him.
She hated how right he was.
Because deep down, she knew—no matter how much she fought, Dante Cavallaro always won.
***A Prison in Disguise***
The estate was eerily quiet when Siara walked inside.
She was used to the weight of guards watching her, but tonight, there were fewer eyes on her.
Dante’s warning still rang in her head.
You belong to me now.
Siara exhaled shakily and made her way upstairs.
As she reached her room, she paused. The door wasn’t locked.
A test? A false sense of freedom?
She hesitated before stepping inside. The lamp beside her bed was already on, casting a dim glow.
Siara collapsed onto the mattress, exhaustion sinking into her bones.
She had spent years surviving under her father’s abuse. Enduring. Adapting.
She would survive this too.
But not by playing Dante’s game.
She needed to learn his weaknesses.
If he thought she would break, he was wrong.
Siara had grown up fighting for her life. And she wasn’t going to stop now.
***Dante’s Game Begins***
Siara didn’t see Dante the next morning.
Instead, Marco arrived at her door, arms crossed.
“Get dressed,” he ordered.
Siara sighed. “Where are we going now?”
“You’re starting your job.”
Her brows furrowed. Job?
Marco tossed a folder onto the table. Inside were papers filled with numbers, business reports, and—surprisingly—cybersecurity logs.
“Dante wants you in his office in an hour,” Marco said. “Don’t be late.”
Siara barely heard him.
She stared at the cybersecurity reports. The breach.
Dante wanted her to work for him… after she had hacked him?
She pressed her lips together. No, this wasn’t a job.
This was control.
He wasn’t punishing her—he was pulling her deeper.
And she had no choice but to play along.
For now.
***The Devil’s Office***
Dante’s office was nothing like she expected.
It wasn’t dark and intimidating. Instead, it was sleek, modern—almost normal.
Siara stepped inside cautiously. Dante sat at his desk, flipping through a document. He didn’t look up.
“You’re late,” he said.
She glanced at the clock. She was exactly on time.
Dante finally lifted his gaze. “Sit.”
Siara hesitated before lowering herself into the leather chair across from him.
Dante pushed a tablet toward her.
“I want you to go through these security logs,” he said. “Find any vulnerabilities.”
Siara’s stomach twisted. “You want me to work for you?”
Dante smirked. “You already do.”
Her hands curled into fists beneath the desk.
Dante leaned back in his chair. “You’re smart, Siara. You proved that when you hacked my system. Use that intelligence wisely, and life here will be easy.”
And if I don’t? she wanted to ask.
But she already knew the answer.
She forced herself to nod, reaching for the tablet. “Fine.”
Dante watched her carefully, his grey eyes unreadable.
Then, he smiled.
“Good girl.”
Siara clenched her teeth.
One day, she would wipe that smirk off his face.
***A Silent Battle***
The work was grueling.
Dante didn’t just want her to find weaknesses—he wanted her to think like a hacker. To be one of his weapons.
Siara tried to ignore the unsettling truth.
Hours passed, and she worked in silence. Dante barely spoke, but his presence was unshakable.
He was testing her. Watching her.
When she finally looked up, she saw Dante staring at her with that same unreadable expression.
“You’re good,” he admitted.
Siara arched a brow. “Was that a compliment?”
Dante smirked. “An observation.”
Siara closed the tablet. “I’m done for today.”
Dante tilted his head. “You think you get to decide when you're done?”
Siara’s heart skipped.
Dante stood, stepping around the desk. He stopped in front of her, tilting her chin up with a single finger.
“I like control, Siara.” His voice was smooth, dangerous. “And I don’t share it.”
Siara swallowed.
Dante’s thumb brushed her lower lip—a barely-there touch, but it sent a shiver through her.
“Be careful,” he murmured. “You might start liking it here.”
Siara’s breath hitched.
Dante dropped his hand and stepped back, his smirk widening.
“Goodnight, Siara.”
Siara stood quickly and turned, walking toward the door without looking back.
Her heart was pounding. Not from fear.
From something else.
Something dangerous.
She would never like it here.
Never.
But as she closed the door behind her, her body still tingling from his touch…
She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.
- Writer
