Chapter Eight: Bound by Fire
398 Words
Elena should have known better.
Should have run when she had the chance.
But now, as she sat crammed into the passenger seat of a sleek black car, Dante’s presence looming beside her, she knew there was no turning back.
The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, but her focus was locked on him.
His hands gripped the steering wheel, veins visible beneath the tanned skin, his fingers relaxed—too relaxed for a man who had just killed two people.
"Where are we going?" she demanded.
Dante didn’t glance at her. Didn’t flinch.
"Somewhere safe."
Elena let out a bitter laugh. "Safe? With you?"
Dante smirked, his green eyes flicking to her for the briefest second before returning to the road. "Safer than if I left you behind, little dove."
She crossed her arms. "I can take care of myself."
Dante chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made her stomach tighten.
"That’s cute," he murmured.
Elena gritted her teeth. "You’re an arrogant, controlling bastard."
Dante’s smirk widened. "And yet, here you are, in my car, breathing because of me."
She hated that he was right.
Hated that a part of her was… drawn to him.
The way he moved, the way he commanded a room without a single word.
He was dangerous, a walking storm.
And she was caught in the eye of it.
Half an hour later.
The car pulled up to an abandoned estate on the outskirts of the city.
Elena’s chest tightened. The place was massive—dark, foreboding, covered in creeping vines.
"A safe house?" she guessed.
Dante killed the engine. "For now."
He pushed open the door, stepping into the cool night air.
Elena hesitated.
She could run.
He was fast, but she was desperate. Maybe—just maybe—she could get away.
As if reading her mind, Dante turned to her, one brow arched.
"Go ahead," he said smoothly. "Run."
Elena’s breath caught.
His eyes dared her.
Dared her to try.
She clenched her fists. "You’re insufferable."
Dante grinned. "And yet, you’re still here."
She hated him.
She hated the way he saw right through her.
With a huff, she pushed open the door and stepped out, her boots crunching against the gravel.
Dante moved beside her, his warmth a stark contrast to the night’s chill.
Elena swallowed hard.
She was in deep.
And there was no way out.
- Writer
