Thorns And Silk

Chapter 8 — Invisible Girl

Aria's POV

Rain always changed everything.

The first drop hit the mansion windows sometime after midnight.

By the second crack of thunder, my hands were already shaking.

I stood frozen near the bedroom balcony while lightning flashed across the Chicago skyline, illuminating the dark clouds rolling violently overhead.

Too loud.

Too familiar.

My chest tightened painfully.

The storm outside sounded exactly like the one from years ago.

The night Sebastian locked me outside for nearly six hours because I accidentally interrupted one of his meetings.

I had been fourteen.

Cold.

Terrified.

Invisible.

“Girls like you should learn silence early,” he told me afterward while I shivered on the marble floor inside the estate.

The memory hit so sharply that nausea twisted through my stomach.

Another thunderclap echoed.

I flinched violently.

No.

Not again.

I wrapped my arms tightly around myself before moving quickly away from the windows. My breathing had already started becoming uneven by the time I reached the hallway outside the bedroom.

Too much space.

Too much noise.

The mansion suddenly felt enormous and suffocating all at once.

I needed somewhere smaller.

Somewhere safe.

Without thinking properly, I hurried downstairs while another flash of lightning illuminated the dark corridors.

My heartbeat crashed painfully against my ribs.

The storm followed me through every room.

Every sound.

Every shadow.

I finally stumbled into one of the smaller storage rooms near the library before shutting the door quickly behind me.

Dark.

Quiet.

Small.

Better.

I slid down against the wall before pulling my knees tightly against my chest.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

Thunder growled violently outside again.

Tears burned instantly behind my eyes.

I hated this.

Hated feeling weak.

Hated how fear still controlled me even after escaping the Voss estate.

But trauma didn’t disappear just because the scenery changed.

A soft knock sounded suddenly against the storage room door.

I froze completely.

“Aria?”

Dante.

Relief and panic tangled together instantly inside my chest.

Silence followed when I didn’t answer immediately.

Then quietly—

“Rosa said you disappeared.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“I’m fine.”

Lie.

The door opened slowly anyway.

Dante stepped inside wearing dark sweatpants and a black long-sleeved shirt, his expression sharpening immediately when he saw me curled up beside the shelves.

Fear flashed briefly across his face.

Not fear of me.

Fear for me.

That realization still felt unfamiliar enough to hurt.

Thunder cracked loudly overhead again.

I flinched before I could stop myself.

Dante’s jaw tightened visibly.

“Come out of there.”

“I’m okay here.”

“No, you’re hiding in a closet.”

Heat crawled faintly into my cheeks despite the panic attack threatening beneath my skin.

“I don’t like storms.”

“I noticed.”

Lightning flashed through the small window near the ceiling.

My breathing turned uneven again instantly.

Dante watched me silently for several seconds before doing something unexpected.

He sat down on the floor beside me.

Not too close.

Just enough.

The movement startled me enough to briefly interrupt the panic spiraling through my chest.

“You don’t have to sit on the floor,” I whispered weakly.

“I’m aware.”

Silence settled between us while rain battered the mansion outside.

Dante leaned back against the wall calmly like sitting inside dark storage rooms at two in the morning was perfectly normal behavior.

“You know,” he said after a while, “Marco once hid in a freezer for three hours because he thought Luca insulted him.”

Despite everything—

A tiny confused sound escaped me.

“What?”

“He claimed it was symbolic.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It never does with him.”

Another rumble of thunder echoed outside.

I stiffened again immediately.

Dante noticed.

Of course he did.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

My throat tightened painfully.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

The softness of the statement almost made it worse.

Because somehow Dante never forced answers from me.

And that made me want to give them anyway.

“I interrupted one of Sebastian’s meetings once,” I whispered finally.

Silence.

“He locked me outside afterward.”

Dante’s expression darkened instantly.

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

Thunder shook the walls again.

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself.

“It was snowing that night,” I admitted shakily. “I remember my hands turning blue.”

The room became deathly quiet.

Dante looked like violence barely restrained itself beneath his skin.

“He laughed,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “Sebastian stood at the window drinking whiskey while I begged to come inside.”

Something terrifying flickered across Dante’s face then.

Not anger.

Rage.

Pure and cold.

And somehow…

Somehow it wasn’t directed at me.

I stared at him quietly while another memory surfaced painfully.

“I used to think maybe if I behaved perfectly…” My voice cracked softly. “Maybe they would finally love me.”

Dante’s eyes met mine sharply.

“They?”

“My mother.” I swallowed hard. “Sebastian. Viktor.”

Silence.

Then Dante spoke in a voice so calm it almost hurt.

“None of this happened because you were difficult to love.”

The words shattered something inside me instantly.

Tears blurred my vision.

I looked away quickly, embarrassed.

Nobody had ever said something like that before.

Not once.

Dante remained beside me quietly while the storm continued raging outside.

No pressure.

No questions.

Just presence.

Steady.

Safe.

“You know what the worst part was?” I whispered eventually.

“What?”

“I stopped expecting kindness.”

The confession slipped out before I could stop it.

Raw.

Honest.

Painful.

I laughed softly afterward, but the sound came out broken.

“It became normal.”

Dante’s gaze remained fixed on me.

“That’s not normal, Aria.”

“I know that now.”

And strangely—

I did.

Because every single day inside this house showed me another version of life I never thought existed.

A life where people asked if I’d eaten.

Where Rosa hugged me for no reason.

Where Marco made terrible jokes until I laughed accidentally.

Where Dante sat on storage room floors during thunderstorms just to make sure I wasn’t alone.

The realization ached.

Another loud crack of thunder echoed outside.

I flinched automatically again.

Without thinking, Dante reached toward me slowly.

His hand paused midway like he was giving me time to refuse.

When I didn’t—

His fingers gently wrapped around mine.

Warm.

Steady.

Safe.

My breath caught softly.

Dante’s hand completely engulfed my trembling one.

No force.

No control.

Just grounding warmth.

“You’re here,” he said quietly. “Not there.”

My throat tightened painfully again.

Because somehow when he said it—

I almost believed him.

Dante's POV

She looked heartbreakingly small curled up beside those shelves.

That realization sat heavily in my chest while the storm continued outside.

Aria’s fingers remained cold inside my hand despite the warmth of the mansion.

Trauma lived deeply in her body.

Instinctively.

Every thunderclap made her shoulders tense.

Every loud sound sharpened fear behind her eyes.

I hated it more than I should have.

No.

That wasn’t true.

I knew exactly why I hated it.

Because I remembered my mother looking the same way.

Small.

Frightened.

Waiting for pain before it arrived.

My father never needed to hit her often.

Fear did most of the work for him eventually.

The memory darkened my mood instantly.

Aria shifted slightly beside me.

“You’re angry.”

Not a question.

Observant.

I looked toward her calmly. “At Sebastian.”

Her fingers tightened faintly around mine.

“You can’t kill everyone who hurt me.”

Interesting choice of words.

Not shouldn’t.

Can’t.

“We’ll see,” I muttered.

To my surprise, a tiny breath escaped her.

Almost amusement.

Progress.

The storm continued raging outside while silence settled comfortably between us for the first time.

Comfortably.

Dangerous thing, comfort.

Especially for men like me.

Aria eventually looked toward me hesitantly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

A tiny smile touched her lips briefly before disappearing again.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Rosa said you vanished after the storm started.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I studied her carefully.

“You looked for me.”

Simple words.

Heavy meaning.

Nobody ever looked for invisible girls.

I understood that now.

“I always know where you are in this house,” I answered honestly.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Oh.”

Probably should have sounded less obsessive.

Too late now.

“You have security cameras everywhere,” she said quietly.

“Yes.”

“You watch them often?”

“When necessary.”

Lie.

Marco already called me insane twice this week for watching kitchen footage just to see whether Aria ate lunch properly.

Aria looked down at our joined hands silently.

“You make me nervous sometimes.”

Honest again.

I respected honesty.

“Because I’m dangerous?”

“Yes.” A pause. “But not toward me.”

The statement hit unexpectedly hard.

I looked at her more carefully then.

She meant it.

She truly believed I would never intentionally hurt her.

Trust.

Small.

Fragile.

But there.

Interesting how much that mattered to me already.

A sudden loud crash of thunder shook the room violently.

Aria startled hard enough that her shoulder pressed briefly against mine.

Her breathing hitched instantly afterward like she expected punishment for accidental contact.

Christ.

I tightened my hold on her hand slightly.

“You’re okay.”

She stayed still beside me.

Not pulling away.

Not panicking.

Just breathing.

Progress again.

“You know,” I said quietly after a while, “when I was ten, I punched one of my father’s guards for insulting my mother.”

Aria blinked in surprise.

“What happened?”

“He broke my nose.”

Her expression softened painfully.

“I’m sorry.”

“There it is again.”

Heat touched her cheeks faintly.

I continued anyway.

“My mother cried harder over my nose than I did.” The memory surfaced sharply. “That was the first time I realized she believed softness could survive here.”

Aria listened silently.

“She was wrong,” I admitted calmly. “But she kept trying anyway.”

“You sound like her.”

The statement startled me enough that I looked at her sharply.

Aria immediately looked nervous. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t apologize.”

Silence.

Then quietly—

“How did she die?”

Straight to the point.

Interesting.

I looked toward the storm outside the small window.

“Wrong place. Wrong war.”

Pain flickered briefly across Aria’s face.

Real sympathy.

For me.

Dangerous thing.

Because I wasn’t used to people looking at me gently.

Not anymore.

Another hour passed before the storm finally began weakening outside.

Aria looked less tense now.

Exhausted.

But calmer.

Her head leaned lightly against the wall beside mine while sleep slowly pulled at her eyes.

“You’re tired,” I observed.

“A little.”

“You should go back upstairs.”

She hesitated.

Then softly—

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

The question hit like a bullet directly through my chest.

Raw trust.

Careful vulnerability.

And Christ—

I would have burned Chicago to the ground before refusing her.

“Yes,” I answered quietly.

Relief softened her face instantly.

Beautiful thing.

I stood first before offering my hand toward her.

Aria looked at it for half a second before placing her smaller hand carefully in mine.

No fear this time.

Only hesitation.

Progress.

I helped her up slowly.

But the moment she stood, her knees weakened slightly from exhaustion.

Instinctively, my arm wrapped around her waist to steady her.

Aria froze briefly.

Then relaxed.

Actually relaxed.

Against me.

The realization nearly stopped my heartbeat for half a second.

We walked upstairs quietly afterward while the mansion settled into peaceful silence around us.

Aria stayed close enough that her sleeve brushed mine occasionally.

Small thing.

Dangerous effect.

By the time we reached the bedroom, exhaustion had nearly dragged her fully under already.

She climbed into bed slowly while I moved toward the couch automatically.

“Dante?”

I looked back.

Her voice came quietly through the darkness.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight.”

Silence.

My pulse slowed dangerously.

Aria looked nervous immediately after speaking.

“I just meant…” She swallowed hard. “The storm is still loud.”

I stared at her for several long seconds.

Then silently moved toward the opposite side of the bed.

Carefully.

Giving her space.

Aria watched me the entire time.

Tense.

Unsure.

But when I finally settled against the mattress beside her—

She didn’t move away.

And sometime later, after the storm completely faded outside—

Aria fell asleep facing me.