Chapter 3
1401 Words
The nightmares never came with monsters.
They came with silence. With eyes in the dark. With a gavel slamming like a death sentence.
I woke choking on a scream, my skin slick with cold sweat. The sheets tangled around my legs felt more like shackles than comfort. The penthouse was too still—like the whole world was holding its breath.
I sat up, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart thudded violently, out of sync with the polished luxury surrounding me.
Then—
A knock.
Not soft.
Not hesitant.
Three sharp, deliberate pounds.
I rose from the bed barefoot, my robe dragging behind me like a phantom's whisper. I knew better than to answer. But curiosity—that was the poison I drank willingly.
As I reached the entryway, I froze.
Dominic was already there.
He opened the door like he expected death on the other side.
Instead, it was a man.
Tall. Dark. A storm wound in human skin. He wore a crimson three-piece suit that looked too rich for daylight, and his smirk was carved from sin. His hair, slicked back raven-black, gleamed under the hallway light. But his eyes—
God.
His eyes were colder than Dominic’s.
“Dante,” Dominic said, his voice like smoke and steel. “You’re early.”
Dante Valente.
The name struck something deep inside me—like a splinter from a dream I’d tried to forget.
And then it hit me.
The auction.
He’d been there. Front row. Unmasked. Unbothered. He hadn’t even bid. He just watched.
Watched me.
Now he looked past Dominic and locked eyes with me, like he’d just claimed something without touching it.
“I came for a drink,” Dante said, stepping inside uninvited. “And maybe a conversation.”
Dominic didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “This isn’t a social hour.”
“It is now.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was lethal. A weight pressing against my ribs, trying to squeeze the breath from my lungs.
Then Dante looked at me again. Really looked.
And smiled.
“Leona Cruz,” he murmured. “The girl in the glass box.”
Ice flooded my veins.
Dominic moved fast—his arm across Dante’s chest, shoving him back. “You don’t say her name.”
Dante didn’t flinch. That damn smirk only grew sharper. “Why not? She already belongs to the highest bidder, doesn’t she?”
Dominic’s jaw twitched. “Careful.”
“Oh, I am.” His voice was velvet laced with blades. “You always liked complicated things. But I remember her. The way she stood there—shoulders back, chin up. Like a queen being sold.”
My nails curled into my palms.
“I didn’t bid,” he said, eyes never leaving mine. “Not because I wasn’t interested. But because I wanted to see who’d be stupid enough to think they could keep her.”
His words struck like knives to the chest.
Dominic stepped in, body a wall between us. “Leave.”
Dante didn’t. He walked past him—like the devil himself had been invited inside.
He stopped three feet from me.
Close enough for me to smell him. Expensive cologne, yes—but beneath it, something darker. Something violent.
“You don’t belong in a cage,” he said, low and smooth. “And Dominic… he’s nothing if not a collector.”
My throat locked.
“Enough,” Dominic snapped, now beside me, shoulders squared like a warning.
Dante raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just here to talk. Maybe offer her a better deal.”
Dominic lunged.
One hand gripped Dante’s throat. The other slammed him against the wall. The entire room shook.
“Touch her,” Dominic growled, “and I’ll peel the skin off your f*****g hands.”
Dante laughed. Even pinned, he was chaos.
“She’s not your possession, Dom. She’s leverage. And you’re bleeding weakness all over the floor.”
I didn’t breathe.
Dominic’s fingers tightened. “You think I won’t end you?”
“No,” Dante said, calm and cold. “I think you won’t risk what she thinks of you.”
For a moment, they just stared—two wolves circling the same prey.
Then Dominic released him.
Dante adjusted his collar like nothing had happened.
“I’ll be seeing you, Leona,” he said, strolling toward the elevator. “Sooner than you think.”
The doors closed with a ding that sounded more like a threat than a goodbye.
~
I turned on Dominic the second we were alone.
“What the hell was that?”
He didn’t look at me. Just poured himself a drink and downed it.
“Dante Valente,” he said. “Heir to the Valente syndicate. A viper in silk. He doesn’t move unless it’s for blood or power.”
“And you let him in here?” I snapped. “You let him talk to me like that?”
Dominic turned. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them. “You think I let things happen? He came to bait me. To see how far I’ll go to protect what’s mine.”
“Stop saying that,” I hissed. “I’m not your f*****g property.”
Something flickered in his expression—pain? Rage? It disappeared before I could name it.
“You think he wants you for who you are?” he said. “He wants you because you’re mine.”
My chest clenched. “Why did he say I’m leverage?”
Dominic didn’t answer.
I stepped closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He met my gaze. No armor this time. Just something raw. Fractured.
“You don’t need to know.”
“Yes,” I said, steel under the shake in my voice. “I do. If I’m a pawn in your little mafia chess game, I have the right to know who’s moving the pieces.”
He moved toward me—slow and deliberate.
“Dante doesn’t make threats,” he said. “He makes promises.”
I swallowed hard.
“You don’t owe him something?” I asked.
“No.” he answered.
“But he thinks you’re weak because of me.” I asked once more
“Yes.” he answered again.
The air between us crackled with something too sharp, too real.
“I’m not a weakness,” I whispered.
His hand rose, cupping my cheek before I could pull away.
“You are,” he said softly. “But you’re mine.”
~
He didn’t sleep that night.
Neither did I.
I sat curled in the chair by the window, watching the city lights flicker like dying stars.
Somewhere out there, Dante Valente was waiting.
Watching.
Planning.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling he’d already set the first domino in motion.
~
Morning came in shades of gray.
Dominic was gone.
No note. No explanation.
Only a sealed manila envelope on the table.
I opened it with trembling fingers.
Inside—photos.
Of me.
Leaving the auction house. Walking into the penthouse. Standing in the music room. Even barefoot in the kitchen, robe clinging to me.
Every angle. Every moment.
All taken from a distance.
By someone else.
My stomach turned.
There was a note. Elegant cursive on thick paper.
[I don’t need to own you to have you.] —Dante
My hands shook.
He’d been here. Watching. Waiting.
This wasn’t just rivalry.
It was war.
And I was the spark.
~
By nightfall, Dominic still hadn’t returned.
I paced the floor like a caged animal, the photos spread across the coffee table like a confession.
Every shadow felt like a threat.
I should’ve run.
I should’ve screamed.
Instead, I went to the music room.
I sat at the piano.
And I played.
Fury. Fear. Fire.
The notes bled from me like wounds.
I didn’t hear the elevator.
But I felt him.
Dominic.
He stood in the doorway—shirt stained with blood, eyes hollow, hands trembling.
I stood so fast the bench crashed behind me.
“What happened?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
He stared at me like I was something slipping through his fingers.
Then he dropped to his knees.
I ran to him.
But he didn’t look at me.
He just whispered one word.
“Dante.”
Then everything went black.
- Writer
