Behind his black eyes

Chapter 7: Ariella

The door clicked shut behind me, and suddenly the silence was suffocating.

No familiar voices, no warm laughter, no smells of home. Just cold marble floors and walls lined with portraits of men who looked like they ruled the world and probably did.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. This wasn’t how I imagined turning twenty-three. Not like this.

I was supposed to be free, wild, chasing dreams not trapped in some gilded cage with a man I’d never even met.

The room was large too large for one person. A king-sized bed draped in black silk, heavy curtains that blocked out the city lights, and windows that stared like watchful eyes.

I paced, trying to fight the dizzying mix of fear and fury burning inside me.

¿Cómo pudieron hacer esto sin preguntarme? How could they do this without asking me?

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I wasn’t some prize to be handed off like a commodity. Ariella was strong, stubborn, and not afraid to fight.

But even as the anger flared, a part of me trembled. What did this mean? For my family, for my future?

I sank onto the edge of the bed, the cold sheets a harsh reminder that this was real.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.

But one thing was clear:

I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The memory hit me like a blow.

Elías and I had thought the motel was safe a cheap, rundown place on the edge of town where no one would look for us. It was the perfect hideout, away from prying eyes and the endless suffocating rules.

We kept the blinds shut tight, locked the door, and tried to breathe for the first time in weeks.

But the silence was shattered that night.

I was in the bathroom when I heard the pounding on the door.

“Elías,” I whispered, panic rising. “They’re here.”

He moved fast, grabbing his jacket, eyes sharp and tense. “We don’t have much time.”

Before we could get out the back, the door crashed open.

Men in dark suits flooded the room, voices cold and commanding.

“No running,” one barked.

I froze, heart pounding as they cuffed us both, dragging us out into the harsh night.

That was the moment I knew the fight was over. Or maybe it had only just begun.

Even now, the memory sent a shiver down my spine. The cold metal cuffs biting into my wrists. The way Elías’ hand had slipped from mine like sand.

I hadn’t wanted to leave him behind, but they were relentless too powerful, too organized.

And me? I was a prize they’d claimed without asking, like a chess piece moved across a board I didn’t even know I was playing on.

I pressed my back against the wall, eyes closing tight. No. No. No.

I wasn’t going to let this define me.

Not the men who dragged me here.

Not the deal my father made without my consent.

I was Ariella. Fierce, stubborn, unbroken.

And I’d find a way to fight back.

Tomorrow. The day after. Whenever it took.

Because the cage was gold, but it wasn’t a prison… not yet.

The next morning, sunlight streamed weakly through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the sleek room.

I could hear voices down the hall footsteps, muffled conversations but they wouldn’t find me easy to control.

When the door opened, I was ready.

Dante stepped inside, calm and composed, expecting obedience.

Instead, I stood my ground, chin lifted, eyes blazing.

“I’m not your prisoner,” I said, voice steady. “And this—” I gestured around the room “—isn’t my home.”

He studied me, that hard edge in his gaze softening for a fraction of a second before he masked it again.

“You’ll follow the rules,” he said, “or there will be consequences.”

I smiled, cold and sharp.

“Try me.”

His words cut through the air like a warning shot—“You’ll follow the rules, or there will be consequences.”

But I wasn’t trembling. I wasn’t backing down.

I met his gaze, steady and fierce. “I don’t scare easily. If you think a few rules will change me, you’re wrong.”

There was something dangerous in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and something deeper, unreadable.

I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of defiance flood through me.

They thought they could trap me in this mansion, in this life, but I wasn’t done fighting.

Not by a long shot.

“Try me,” I said again, louder this time.

He didn’t answer, just studied me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

But I knew one thing for sure—

I wasn’t the only one playing a dangerous game.

Once the door clicked shut behind Dante, the silence in the room felt almost like a challenge.

I paced the floor, mind racing faster than my heartbeat.

This wasn’t just about defiance. It was survival. Freedom.

I couldn’t stay trapped here, not like this. Not without a plan.

First, I needed information about who was watching, how tight their grip really was, and where the weak points were.

Maybe Miguel or one of Dante’s men had a routine, a flaw I could exploit.

I pulled out my phone from the small bag I’d managed to keep hidden the only link to the outside world.

No signal.

Of course.

They were thorough.

But that only made me more determined.

I’d find another way.

I’d make them regret ever thinking they could own me.

Because I was Ariella.

And I was far from finished.

Later That Day

A soft knock tapped at the door.

Then came a hesitant voice. “Señorita Ariella? Lunch is ready downstairs.”

I didn’t move.

The knock came again, a little firmer this time. “Señorita, please. Don Dante expects you at the table.”

I crossed my arms and stared at the door like it had personally insulted me.

“I’m not hungry,” I said coldly.

Minutes passed.

Then came Miguel’s voice. Calm. Too calm. “Señorita, I recommend you come down before he gets involved.”

I stood slowly, walked to the door, and pressed my lips to the wood. “Tell your boss he can eat alone. Or choke.”

A pause. Then footsteps faded away.

I smirked.

But I barely had time to breathe before heavy boots thundered down the hall.

The door burst open like a storm.

Dante.

No bodyguards. No warnings. Just him — tall, furious, and radiating pure control.

“I gave you a simple order,” he growled.

“I’m not your dog to be summoned with scraps,” I snapped, eyes blazing.

“I wasn’t asking.”

He crossed the room in three long strides.

“Touch me,” I warned, stepping back, “and I’ll—”

Too late.

In one swift, infuriating move, he grabbed me by the waist, hoisted me up, and tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“¡Animal salvaje!” I shouted, pounding my fists against his back. “Imbecillis! Bestia! Ego te interficere!”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Yell all you want, princesa,” he muttered, walking steadily toward the stairs. “No one’s going to save you.”

“I swear to God I’ll stab you in your sleep!”

“That would require you to get near me. Be careful you might start liking it.”

“Filius canis!” I hissed, kicking and thrashing as he carried me effortlessly through the hall.

Every maid and guard we passed looked away, pretending not to notice.

But I saw the corner of Dante’s mouth twitch. He was enjoying this.

And I hated how warm my skin was getting the longer I was pressed against him.

He dropped me into the velvet dining chair like I was nothing more than cargo. I scrambled up, seething, but the guards at the doors didn’t so much as blink.

The long mahogany table was set for two.

How romantic.

“Sit,” Dante said flatly.

“I am not your prisoner,” I snapped.

“No,” he said, taking the seat across from mine, his tone maddeningly casual. “You’re my fiancée.”

I nearly flipped the plate in front of me. “Don’t say that.”

He picked up his fork like this was just another Tuesday.

“Eat,” he said.

“I’d rather starve.”

“Suit yourself.”

My stomach growled in betrayal. I shot it with a murderous look.

“Is this what you do to women?” I asked, glaring at him. “Kidnap them? Drag them around like cavemen? Or is this your idea of foreplay?”

He didn’t even look up. “If it was foreplay, mi amor, you’d be shaking.”

“In somnis tuis tantum!” I hissed. Only in your dreams.

That made him look up, his eyes sharp, dark, dangerous.

But I didn’t flinch.

Let him try to intimidate me. Let him think he could win.

I’d make this hell for him until he begged to set me free.

And then, when the time was right I’d burn this whole place down.

Dante chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

I sat back, arms crossed, refusing to touch a thing. The plates between us were full mine untouched, his half-empty.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t eat,” he said calmly.

“I’d rather vomit,” I snapped.

He arched his brow. “Charming.”

“You think this is normal? Forcing a woman into a marriage she didn’t agree to?”

He shrugged, the nerve of it making my blood boil. “You weren’t exactly forced. Your father signed.”

“Mea voluntas non erat!” I spat. It wasn’t my will!

“You should really stop speaking in Latin,” he said, sipping from his glass. “It makes you sound like you’re hiding something.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then you’d fit in perfectly.”

I leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet here you are, under my roof.”

“Not by choice.”

He tilted his head. “Then run again. Go on. I’ll give you a head start this time.”

I stood sharply, my chair scraping back. “Don’t tempt me.”

He leaned forward now too, his voice low and lethal. “Don’t tempt me, princesa. Because if I stop being polite, you’ll see what a real monster looks like.”

My breath caught but I didn’t let it show. I clenched my jaw, fire rising up my spine.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” I whispered.

He smiled, and it was terrifying. “No. I think you’re afraid of what you might feel… if you weren’t so damn stubborn.”

That shut me up.

Just for a second.

Then I slapped the napkin on the table. “Go to hell.”

“Dinner’s over anyway.”

The moment my bedroom door clicked shut, I exploded.

I grabbed one of the velvet pillows from the armchair and hurled it across the room with a guttural scream.

It hit the wall with a pathetic thump.

“Maledictus sit!” I hissed. May he be cursed.

Dante. That arrogant, smug, insufferable bastard.

He thought he could drag me to the table like a dog and make me sit, eat, and behave?

Hell. No.

I paced the room like a caged animal, my bare feet silent against the cold marble. Every inch of this place reeked of control, clean, expensive, suffocating.

The worst part?

He got under my skin.

I hated how my heart raced when his voice dropped low.

I hated how I noticed the way his sleeves clung to his forearms when he slammed the door open.

I hated… everything.

But most of all, I hated that he saw that flicker in my eyes when he leaned closer and said, “If I stop being polite, you’ll see what a real monster looks like.”

I should’ve slapped him. Spit in his face.

And maybe next time, I would.

But for now… I needed a plan. A real one.

Because if I stayed here too long, one of two things would happen:

I’d either break out…

Or I’d break.

And I didn’t know which one scared me more.

Later that night

The house was too quiet.

Too still.

I waited until the hallway lights dimmed and the guards outside switched shifts—there was a fifteen-second window when the courtyard wasn’t being watched. I’d memorized their rhythm like a song.

My boots were silent against the floor. I wore black. I’d tied my hair back tight.

No phone. No flashlight. Just me and adrenaline.

The heavy back doors creaked open slowly. I slipped into the night like a whisper.

The courtyard was bathed in silver moonlight, the fountain bubbling gently, almost mocking me.

There it was: the wall.

Tall. Topped with sharp, decorative ironwork. Probably electrified. Probably patrolled.

But there was a section near the side garden—just beneath a stretch of creeping ivy—that dipped a few inches lower than the rest. I’d studied it for days.

If I could climb it fast enough…

I ran.

Heart pounding.

Breath ragged.

Fingers gripping the cold stone as I scrambled up the wall, boots slipping against the rough edges.

I was almost there. My fingers brushed the top. I grabbed the ivy for balance—

“Going somewhere?”

The voice sliced through the night.

Deep. Cold.

Dante.

I froze.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

I turned my head just enough to see him standing behind me in the shadows, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

“Watch me,” I snapped.

And I jumped.

I didn’t care that I hadn’t cleared the top. I’d rather land hard and broken than live one more day feeling owned.

But I didn’t hit the ground.

I hit him.

His arms caught me midair like it was nothing, his body solid, unmoving.

“You are a pain in the ass,” he growled into my ear.

I struggled, kicking, punching, thrashing. “Let me go!”

“Not a chance.”

“Maledictum sanguinem tuum!” I cursed. Damn your blood!

He threw me over his shoulder again, and I screamed in rage, fists pounding against his back.

“You’ll regret this!” I shouted.

“I already do.”

The hallways blurred past me, the polished floor catching streaks of moonlight. My fists hammered against his back, but Dante didn’t flinch.

“Put me down!” I shouted. “I swear to God, I will bite you!”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t grunt. Didn’t pause. Just walked like he was hauling a sack of rice instead of a furious, kicking, Latin-cursing woman.

When we reached my room, he kicked the door open like a man possessed and strode in without ceremony.

Then, without warning, he yanked me off his shoulder and dropped me straight onto the mattress.

I bounced slightly, hair flying in my face.

I scrambled to sit up, rage twisting in my chest. “You—!”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, pointing a finger at me. “Don’t say another damn word.”

His voice was low. Dangerous.

I froze, breathing hard.

He stood there, glaring at me like he was holding something back like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to yell, throw a chair, or… kiss me.

God, I hated that thought.

“I should lock you in here and chain the windows shut,” he muttered.

“Try it,” I hissed. “You’ll wake up with your car on fire.”

He ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavy now too. “Do you ever stop fighting?”

“When I’m free.”

He took one long step forward, and I tensed, fists clenched.

But he didn’t touch me. He just looked at me, looked at me like I was the storm he hadn’t seen coming.

“I don’t know what I hate more,” he said. “That you’re this much trouble, or that I expected it… and still agreed to the deal.”

I swallowed hard.

My chest was heaving. My hands were shaking. But I didn’t back down.

“Then let me go.”

His eyes darkened. “I can’t.”

“Won’t,” I corrected coldly.

His jaw ticked. “Same thing.”

“No,” I whispered. “It’s not.”

There was a pause, heavy and thick. I felt the tension like a wire strung between us, drawn tight.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

This time, I heard the click of the lock.

And for the first time since arriving, my breath caught for real.

Because now it was clear.

I wasn’t just being watched.

I was being caged.