For You

I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT (ZANYA)

The weight of the revelation crushed me.

I had a family. A real family. Parents. Siblings. People who had been searching for me, mourning me. It was too much to handle. The room blurred, swallowed by the overwhelming storm raging inside me. My lungs tightened, my body curling in on itself as years of buried memories clawed their way to the surface.

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"Get up!" The voice was sharp, merciless. The whip cracked against the cold, cemented floor beside me, a warning. I flinched but didn’t move fast enough. The second strike lashed across my back, pain flaring through my body like fire.

"Useless!" Another voice, this one bored, detached. "She won’t survive another week. Just dispose of her."

No. No, no, no.

Survival. It was all I had. All I knew.

I forced myself up, my small frame trembling, bruised knees barely able to support me. The chains around my wrists clinked, too tight, biting into my skin. The man before me smirked, tilting his head in mock amusement.

"You’re a failure, 317. A broken doll."

I lunged before I could think, sheer desperation fueling my movements. A knife gleamed in my hand, my heartbeat roaring in my ears as I plunged it into his thigh. A scream tore from his throat, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Blood splattered my face, the metallic scent searing itself into my senses. A gun clicked behind me. I froze.

"Enough."

I turned slowly, meeting the calculating gaze of him. The one who ruled my nightmares.

His lips curled in a cruel smile. "She’s not ready," he said. "But she will be."

The next days were worse. They starved me, tested me. Put me in situations where I had to fight for my life against others who were just as desperate. Some were older, stronger. But I learned quickly. I had no choice.

Pain became my teacher. Blood, my companion. Death, my shadow.

And then…

Darkness. A room. Chains again, but this time, they weren’t the worst of it. No, the real monster sat in the corner, watching. Always watching.

"You’re going to be my greatest creation," he whispered one night, running a cold blade along my cheek. "You will be perfect."

I never stopped fighting. But sometimes, I wondered if I ever truly escaped.

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I gasped awake, my body trembling violently. The past still clung to me like a second skin, suffocating me to the point of chokehold. But then, through the haze of panic, I saw him.

Dante.

His gaze burned with something raw, something dangerous. His hands were firm on my shoulders, grounding me. I didn’t realize I was crying until he reached out, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb and licked it. I swallowed hard, looking away.

He said nothing, but his silence was a demand.

Before I could react, he moved.

In one smooth motion, Dante scooped me up in his arms, lifting me effortlessly. A startled yelp left my lips, but he ignored it, carrying me to the outdoor balcony and lowering us onto the cushioned seat of the gazebo. No, he didn’t just sit me down. He dumped me onto his lap.

Heat flooded my cheeks. "What the hell, Dante!?"

"You weren’t answering me," he said simply, as if that justified this insanity.

I was too shocked to react at first. Then, I tried to move off him, but his grip tightened. "Stay."

I stilled. His warmth seeped into me, his scent—something dark and rich—wrapping around me like a cocoon. I didn’t understand him. Didn’t understand why he did things like this.

Didn't understand what he saw in me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than I expected.

I nodded. Lied.

He didn’t believe me, but he let it slide. The silence stretched between us, oddly comfortable, until he shattered it with a single question.

"Who is it?"

Every muscle in my body locked up.

I tried to escape his grip again, but it was useless. Dante was stronger, bigger. His arm tightened around my waist, pinning me against his firm chest. "I don’t want to talk about it."

His jaw ticked. "You will."

I squirmed again, but my knee brushed against something—something hard. My breath caught as I realized what it was.

Holy s**t.

Dante was—

Heat exploded across my face, mortification hitting me like a freight train. My eyes darted away, looking anywhere but at him. But the damage was done.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Careful, angel. You don't want to start something you can't finish."

I wanted to die.

Before I could combust from sheer embarrassment, the balcony doors burst open with all the grace of a hurricane.

"Zanya!" Kaili and Queenie rushed in, hair tousled, clothes wrinkled, shoes in hand. Xavier and Aaron trailed behind them, looking equally disheveled, like they had run through a battlefield.

"Are you okay?" Kaili grabbed my hands, examining me like I might fall apart at any second.

"You scared the hell out of us!" Queenie scolded, hugging me tightly before pulling back to glare at Dante. "And you! Why the hell is she in your lap?"

Dante smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Because she belongs here."

Kaili and Queenie turned to me, demanding explanations, but I could only blink, my mind still reeling from everything. The past. The revelations. And the man beneath me who refused to let go.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew one thing for certain.

Dante wasn't just watching over me.

He was staking his claim.

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Queenie sighed, crossing her arms. "Zee, you have to tell your family about him. They deserve to know. You deserve to stop carrying this alone."

Zanya hugged herself, shaking her head. "I can’t." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You two are already in danger just by being my best friends. I can't bear to drag more people into this. If something happens to them because of me…" She swallowed hard, guilt clawing at her chest. "I’m already drowning in this. I don’t need more weight pulling me under."

Kaili and Queenie exchanged a look before Kaili stepped closer, placing a hand on Zanya’s shoulder. "We’re not going anywhere, Zee. We chose to stand by you, and we’re not backing down now. But your family—don’t they deserve the same choice?"

Zanya exhaled shakily, her grip tightening around herself. She didn’t know how to explain that her past wasn’t just a nightmare she could wake up from—it was still lurking, still watching, waiting to drag her back into the darkness.

Kaili was about to say more when she suddenly gasped, eyes widening. "Oh my God!"

Both Zanya and Queenie turned to her, startled. "What?"

"I can’t believe I forgot to tell you guys!" Kaili’s voice was urgent. "I found out who Dante is."

Zanya stiffened immediately, her heartbeat kicking up. "What do you mean?"

Kaili took a deep breath. "Dante Moretti."

Silence.

Zanya blinked. "Okay..?"

Kaili gave her an exasperated look. "Dante Moretti. Leader of the Vipers."

Zanya’s mouth parted slightly, her mind struggling to process the information. "You're joking right?"

Queenie, on the other hand, snapped her fingers. "That’s why he looked so damn familiar!" She let out a low whistle, shaking her head. "I knew I’d seen that man somewhere before. I attended one of their parties a while back. You know, one of those high-end events where everyone’s either ridiculously rich or ridiculously dangerous."

Zanya barely heard her. Her mind was still stuck on one thing. Dante Moretti. The leader of the Vipers.

All she could say was, "Wow."

Queenie smirked, turning to Zanya with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Well, well, well… our little Zanya has quite the catch, huh?"

Zanya groaned, covering her face with her hands as Queenie and Kaili giggled beside her. "Not funny," she mumbled, her cheeks burning.

But even as they teased her, a single thought lingered in the back of her mind.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?