OWNED BY THE DEVIL'S HEIR

CHAPTER FOUR

The silence between them lasted too long. It felt like a living thing, pushing against the walls and filling every part of the underground room until Elian found it hard to think. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, his body still, his breathing steady only because he made it so. Inside, his thoughts raced. They jumped from what he had just seen to the man standing above him, to the fact that he couldn't change any of it.

Dante stayed where he was for a moment longer. He didn't speak. He didn't move. He just watched. Elian couldn't fully see Dante's face from his angle, but that didn't make it any easier. If anything, the silence felt heavier, the not-knowing sharper. Elian had no idea what Dante had seen, what he understood, or what he was deciding now that the truth of this place was out.

Then Dante moved.

The first step echoed softly, quiet but clear enough to cut through everything else. It grabbed Elian’s attention right away, pulling him back to the moment with a sharp awareness he couldn't ignore.

Dante walked down slowly. He wasn't in a hurry, no sign that he felt the need to rush this. Each step brought him closer, closing the distance in a way that felt planned. The air seemed to change with him, growing heavier with every second, as if the space itself reacted to his presence.

Elian didn’t step back. Every feeling told him to, but he held his ground. There was nowhere to go that would make a difference. Running now would only show a weakness he didn’t want to share.

By the time Dante reached the bottom of the stairs, there was no space left between them.

For a short moment, Dante’s eyes looked past Elian, at the open space behind him. The cages.

The people inside them. The quiet suffering that filled the room without ever making a sound. Nothing about it seemed to surprise Dante. That alone said a lot.

Then he looked back at Elian.

"You shouldn't be here."

His voice was low and steady, reaching Elian with a weight that was hard to ignore. He didn't yell. He didn't need to. The meaning was clear and right away.

Elian swallowed. The tightness in his throat made it harder than it should have been. He forced himself to speak.

"Then why is it here?"

The question came out quieter than he meant, but it hung in the air between them. It wasn’t just being stubborn. It wasn’t just being confused. It was something like a challenge.

Dante didn’t answer right away. He watched him instead. Really watched him. His eyes moved over Elian in a way that felt sharper now, more focused, as if he were looking past what was easy to see and searching for something deeper. It wasn't the same look he'd given him before.

Something new was in it now, something that hadn’t been there in the room above. Recognition. Or the start of it.

"You saw something you weren't meant to see," Dante said finally.

The words fit, but they didn't fix anything. They just made the weight of the moment feel heavier. Elian let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. It left him slowly, his chest easing just enough for him to get steady before speaking again.

"I already did."

The memory of the docks was there, close enough to feel, impossible to ignore. The body on the ground. The sound of the gun. The way Dante had looked at him afterward. This wasn’t the first line that had been crossed. It was just another one.

The words between them felt heavier than before.

Dante stepped closer. This time, there was no space left at all. Up close, Elian could see the change in his face more clearly. It wasn't obvious. It didn't need to be. There was something in the way Dante held his gaze, in the way his attention settled more firmly than before, that showed something had changed.

Elian felt it. The difference. The way he was being seen now.

He didn’t move. Even as the tension grew, even as his feelings pushed against his control, he stayed where he was. There was no point in pulling back. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make Dante see him any differently.

Dante’s eyes stayed on him, studying him with a depth that made it hard to stay unaffected. His attention moved over the smallest things—how Elian stood, how his breathing stayed steady despite everything around him, how his eyes didn’t look away even when they should have.

Something didn’t fit.

"You're not reacting the way you should."

The words were quiet, but they landed clearly. Elian felt his breath catch for the smallest moment. It was fast. Barely noticeable. But it happened. And Dante saw it. He always did.

The silence that followed felt tighter, the space between them shrinking in a way that had nothing to do with distance.

"What are you?"

Dante’s voice dropped a little, the question cutting through the moment with something sharper underneath. It wasn’t casual curiosity. It wasn’t just trying to understand. It was a demand for the truth.

Elian held his gaze. For a moment, he thought about what to say. The choices quickly ran through his mind, each one weighed against what Dante had already seen, what he might already suspect. There was no perfect answer. Only choices that carried different risks.

"I'm exactly what you think I am."

The words left him steady, said in a way that sounded sure. It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the whole truth either.

Dante didn’t look convinced. If anything, the answer seemed to make the thought already forming in his mind grow stronger. His attention stayed fixed, searching, as if he were pulling at something just under the surface, waiting for it to show itself.

Behind them, one of the prisoners moved. The soft sound of chains dragging lightly against the floor followed as someone changed their position. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to draw attention for a brief moment.

Elian’s eyes flickered for just a second. That was all it took. Dante noticed. His eyes followed the movement, taking in the figures behind Elian again, the quiet reality of what was in that space. When his attention came back, it carried something heavier.

"This doesn't change anything," Dante said. The words came without explanation, but they had meaning.

Elian frowned a little, confusion cutting through the tension. "What doesn't?"

Dante held his gaze. "You being here."

The answer settled in the space between them, leaving no room for not understanding.

Whatever Dante had seen, whatever he had started to suspect, it hadn’t changed his decision.

Elian felt something tighten in his chest. "That's supposed to make sense?"

"It doesn't need to," Dante replied. The calm in his voice made it worse.

Elian let out a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm despite the frustration building under the surface. "You keep saying things like I'm supposed to understand them," he said, his voice steadier now. "I don't."

Dante didn’t answer right away. He watched him again, his attention lasting in a way that suggested he was deciding something, not just reacting.

Then he stepped back. The sudden space between them felt strange, almost confusing after the strong feeling of the moment. It gave Elian room to breathe, but it didn’t ease the tension that had built.

"If you don't understand," Dante said, "you will."

There was no extra feeling in the words. No warning. But they carried weight all the same. Elian’s jaw tightened a little.

"And if I don't want to?"

Dante’s expression didn’t change. "That won't matter either."

The sure tone in his voice left no room for arguing. Silence fell again, heavier now, filled with everything that had been said and everything that hadn’t. The space around them felt smaller, the air thicker, as if the room itself held onto the tension instead of letting it go.

Elian’s eyes moved briefly past Dante, back toward the cages behind him. The people there hadn’t moved much. They watched in quiet ways, their attention far away but present, as if they had seen moments like this before and knew better than to react. It made something inside him twist again.

Dante followed his gaze once more.

"You don't belong down here," he said. The words were different this time. Not an order. Not a warning. Something else.

Elian looked back at him. "Neither do they."

The answer came without waiting. For a moment, something changed in Dante’s expression. It was fast, small enough that Elian might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking right at him. Then it was gone.

"That's not your concern," Dante said.

"It is now."

The words landed solidly between them. Dante didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed on Elian, sharper now, more focused than before. Whatever Dante had started to suspect earlier hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten stronger. And Elian could feel it. The change. The way he was being seen differently. This wasn’t just about someone who had seen too much anymore. This was something else. Something more dangerous.

Dante turned a little, his eyes moving toward the stairs behind him. For a moment, it seemed like he would leave without another word. Then he stopped. When he spoke again, his voice had something quieter underneath it. "Be careful what you get yourself into." he muttered.

Elian couldn't answer.