Owned By the man that RUINED my family

Chapter 9

Arielle

I didn’t sleep.

I packed.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough to remind myself I still had a choice.

I folded the clothes Dante bought me with hands that refused to stop shaking. Every drawer I closed felt like reclaiming a piece of myself—proof I wasn’t just a problem he needed to manage.

A liability.

That word echoed in my head.

By the time the sun began to creep over the city, I’d made up my mind.

I wasn’t staying.

I slipped into the living room quietly, shoes in my hand, heart pounding like it knew better than I did. The front door stood between me and freedom. Between me and whatever this twisted, intoxicating pull was becoming.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I froze.

Dante stood near the windows, phone in hand, suit jacket already on. Like he’d known. Like he’d been waiting.

“I’m leaving,” I said, lifting my chin. “You don’t get to decide everything for me.”

He exhaled slowly. “This isn’t about control.”

“It always is with you.”

He crossed the room in three strides. “You overheard.”

I laughed softly. “You weren’t exactly whispering.”

His jaw clenched. “You heard half a conversation.”

“I heard enough.”

“You heard strategy,” he said. “Not how I feel.”

I stopped. That landed.

“And how do you feel?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low. Honest. Dangerous.

“I feel like if you walk out that door, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Silence.

There it was again—the line he refused to cross.

“Exactly,” I whispered.

I stepped around him. He didn’t grab me. Didn’t stop me.

That hurt worse than if he had.

The elevator ride down felt endless. I replayed everything—his hands steadying me, his voice in the dark, the way he’d stood between me and danger without hesitation.

Maybe Selene was right.

Maybe he didn’t love me.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to let go.

Outside, the city buzzed like nothing had almost happened last night. I blended in easily. Too easily. Anonymous again.

My phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

I should’ve ignored it.

I didn’t.

“You shouldn’t be alone, Arielle,” a man’s voice said smoothly.

My stomach dropped. “Who is this?”

“A friend of your father’s,” he replied. “He asked me to check on you.”

My pulse raced. “How did you get this number?”

A pause. Then a chuckle.

“You left the safest place you could’ve been.”

I spun around, scanning the street.

“You wanted answers,” he continued. “I can give them to you. About your father. About Dante Cross.”

My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear.

“Where?” I asked.

He gave an address.

Then he said the words that made my blood run cold.

“Come alone. Dante doesn’t need to know.”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen, every instinct screaming no.

But something else burned hotter.

Truth.

I hailed a car.

And as it pulled away from the curb, I didn’t see Dante watching from across the street—phone pressed to his ear, fury darkening his eyes.

“Track her,” he said coldly.

Because Arielle Monroe had just made the most dangerous move of her life.

And this time…

I wasn’t there to stop it.