HIS ROAD TO RUIN

His Rules.

(Naya's POV)

By the time I wake up the next morning, I have already decided that Dante Cross is not going to control my life.

I repeat the decision to myself while I stand in front of my mirror, brushing through the mess my hair has become after a night of tossing and turning.

I slept badly.

Not because I am scared of him.

At least, that is what I tell myself.

I slept badly because every time I closed my eyes, I remembered the note I found beneath my windshield yesterday.

YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO YOUR GUARDIAN.

Someone had been watching me.

Someone knew about Dante.

And, judging by the message, someone knew exactly what my father had done.

That should frighten me.

Instead, it makes me angry.

I have spent too much of my life being told what is best for me. My father does it because he thinks he is protecting me. Professors do it because they think they know what I am capable of. Evan does it sometimes because he worries about me.

Now Dante has decided to join the list.

I grab my bag from the chair and head downstairs.

I stop halfway down the staircase.

Dante is standing by the front entrance.

He is already dressed in black, with his sleeves pushed slightly up his forearms, revealing pieces of the tattoos covering his skin. He holds a cup of coffee in one hand while checking something on his phone with the other.

He looks completely comfortable in my father’s house.

That bothers me more than it should.

His eyes lift from his phone when he notices me. “Good morning,” he says calmly.

I continue down the stairs and give him a long look. “Is it?”

One corner of his mouth moves, although I cannot tell whether he is amused or simply tired. “That depends on you.”

I stop at the bottom of the stairs. “Already irritating me before eight in the morning. Impressive.”

He slips his phone into his pocket and reaches for the door. “I am not trying to irritate you.”

“You have a strange way of showing it,” I reply as I walk past him.

Outside, I immediately see his motorcycle.

I stop. “No.”

Dante looks at me from beside the driver’s door of a black SUV. “I was not asking you to ride the motorcycle.”

I glance at the SUV and then back at him. “Then why is it here?”

“Because it is mine.”

I narrow my eyes. “You have a car?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We are taking the car.”

He opens the passenger door for me without answering.

I hesitate for a moment before getting inside.

He closes the door behind me and walks around to the driver’s side.

The drive to campus begins quietly.

Too quietly.

Dante keeps both hands on the steering wheel, his attention fixed on the road. There is no music playing, no radio, not even the sound of a phone vibrating.

I glance at him.

He looks like the kind of person who could sit in complete silence for six hours and somehow make everyone else feel uncomfortable about speaking first.

I decide I am not going to let him win.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “how long exactly are you planning to follow me around?”

He does not look at me. “As long as necessary.”

“That is not a number.”

“It is not supposed to be.”

I sigh and look out the window. “This is going to be unbearable.”

“You will adjust.”

I turn toward him. “Did you just tell me I will adjust?”

“Yes.”

I stare at him.

He remains completely serious.

I shake my head. “You know, most people at least pretend to be concerned about whether someone likes them.”

“I am not most people.”

“That much is obvious.”

A brief silence follows.

Then Dante speaks again. “There are rules.”

I turn my head toward him slowly. “I knew there was going to be a catch.”

“There are four rules,” he says evenly.

I gesture toward him. “Go ahead. Entertain me.”

His expression does not change. “First, you do not leave campus without telling me.”

I immediately laugh. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Second?”

“You do not attend parties without security.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “I am twenty-one, Dante.”

“I know your age.”

“Then you should understand that I am capable of deciding whether I want to attend a party.”

“I understand that you are capable of making decisions,” he replies calmly. “I also understand that someone is currently interested in making decisions for you.”

That takes some of the amusement out of my face.

I look at him.

He continues driving.

“Third, you do not disappear without telling me where you are going.”

“I do not disappear.”

“You did yesterday.”

“I left the auditorium.”

“You disappeared from the people assigned to watch you.”

I frown. “People were watching me?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“That is not important.”

“It is very important if strangers are following me.”

Dante’s jaw tightens. “You will know what you need to know when you need to know it.”

I let out a slow breath. “And the fourth rule?”

His eyes remain on the road. “You stay away from Blackmile.”

The name means nothing to me, but the change in his voice catches my attention. “What is Blackmile?”

He does not answer.

I wait.

Nothing.

I turn toward him. “Dante?”

His expression remains unreadable. “You do not need to know.”

I laugh softly, but there is no humor in it. “That is becoming your favorite answer.”

“It is the safest one.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For you.”

The seriousness in his voice makes me quiet.

For several seconds, neither of us says anything.

Then I turn toward the window. “You are not my father.”

“I know.”

“You are not my boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“You are not my owner.”

His fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel. “I know that too.”

“Then you need to understand that I am not going to follow a list of rules just because my father hired you.”

He glances at me briefly. “I do not expect you to like the rules.”

“Good.”

“I expect you to follow them.”

I turn toward him. “And what happens if I do not?”

His gaze returns to the road. “I'll stop you.”

I stare at him. “You are going to have a very difficult time with me.”

“I already know.”

There is something about the confidence in his answer that makes me want to prove him wrong immediately.

By the time we reach campus, I have already decided that I am going to break at least one of his rules.

Maybe two.

Dante parks near the main entrance and gets out.

I reach for my door. “I can walk from here.”

“I know,” he says as he comes around the vehicle.

I pause. “Then you can go.”

“I will be nearby.”

“I do not need you nearby.”

He looks at me calmly. “That is not your decision.”

I step out of the car. “Actually, it is my life.”

I stare at him.

He does not say anything else.

He simply steps aside and lets me walk toward the building.

I make it through my first class without seeing him.

My second class passes just as quietly.

By the time lunch arrives, I am beginning to think he has finally understood that I need space.

Then I glance through the cafeteria window.

There he is.

Standing beside his motorcycle across the street.

Watching the building.

Watching me.

I shake my head.

Fine.

If Dante wants to watch me, he can watch an empty hallway.

I text Mira and tell her to meet me outside.

Then I take the side exit.

The moment I step outside, I feel a ridiculous little rush of victory.

I smile to myself.

One rule is broken.

I walk several blocks to a small café where Mira is already waiting.

She looks at me suspiciously when I sit down. “You look pleased with yourself,” she says, lifting an eyebrow.

“I escaped my prison guard,” I reply, dropping my bag beside the chair.

Mira laughs. “You actually lost him?”

“For the moment.”

“That man is terrifying.”

“He is also extremely annoying.”

“You say that like those things cannot exist together.”

I laugh.

For the first time since yesterday, my shoulders loosen.

We spend nearly an hour talking about the competition, Evan, and my father’s ridiculous decision to hire Dante.

I almost forget about everything.

Almost.

Then, on my way back to campus, I notice something beneath my windshield wiper.

Another folded piece of paper.

My smile disappears.

I pull it free slowly.

My heart begins to beat harder before I even open it.

I unfold the paper.

Five words stare back at me.

YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO YOUR GUARDIAN, I TOLD YOU SO.

I stop breathing for a second.

It is the same handwriting.

The same message.

The same warning.

I look around the parking lot.

Students are walking past me.

Cars are moving along the road.

Nobody is paying attention.

Then I look toward the street.

Dante’s black SUV is parked across from campus.

He is not inside.

My fingers tighten around the note.

For the first time since my father introduced me to him, I wonder whether Dante is actually the one person protecting me.