BLOOD DEBT:THE DEVIL'S DISTRACTION

Chapter Nine — Elena

He came to find her in the library on the fourth day.

That surprised Elena.

Not because Dante had sought her out.

She was beginning to understand that he seemed to know where she was most of the time, whether he admitted it or not.

What surprised her was that he'd allowed her to wander this far into the house unsupervised in the first place.

The library sat at the western end of the main floor, hidden behind two heavy wooden doors that looked as though they belonged in a cathedral rather than a house.

Elena had discovered it the previous afternoon.

She'd spent nearly an hour simply walking around the room.

There were books everywhere.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves.

Old books with cracked leather bindings.

New books with untouched spines.

History.

Politics.

Finance.

Architecture.

Languages.

Even novels.

That had surprised her.

She had not expected Dante Marchetti to own fiction.

She wasn't sure why.

Maybe because fiction required imagination.

And Dante seemed like a man who preferred facts.

Or perhaps because stories required you to believe people could become something different from what they had been.

She hadn't decided yet whether Dante believed that.

Elena sat in one of the large chairs near the window with an open book resting in her lap.

She wasn't reading.

Not really.

She had been staring at the same paragraph for almost ten minutes.

Her mind kept returning to the events of the previous night.

The blackout.

The guards.

Dante's hand around her wrist.

The way he'd moved toward danger without hesitation while simultaneously trying to move her away from it.

It was difficult to hate someone properly when they kept complicating the reasons.

She heard footsteps behind her.

Slow.

Measured.

She didn't turn immediately.

"You walk very loudly for a man who seems to enjoy appearing unexpectedly."

Dante stopped.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"You're allowed in here."

Elena turned.

He stood several feet away, dressed in a dark shirt with the sleeves buttoned at his wrists.

No jacket.

No tie.

He looked almost ordinary.

That was the most dangerous thing about him.

Almost.

She closed the book.

"I wasn't asking."

"You were thinking it."

Her eyebrows rose.

"Do you read minds now?"

"No."

"Could have fooled me."

Dante walked farther into the room.

"This room and the rooms connected to the main hall are available to you."

Elena stared at him.

"Available to me?"

"Yes."

"How generous."

His expression didn't change.

"Not the east wing."

She folded her arms.

"And your office."

"Correct."

"Unless you bring me there yourself."

His gaze settled on her.

"Correct."

She leaned back in the chair.

"So you're giving me a map of my cage."

Dante's jaw tightened slightly.

"I'm giving you the parts of the house where you won't get shot by someone who doesn't recognize you yet."

Elena stared at him.

He said things like that far too casually.

As though being accidentally shot inside his home was an ordinary inconvenience.

She slowly put the book down.

"Do you ever hear yourself?"

"Frequently."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Elena stood.

The library suddenly felt smaller.

"Do you understand how insane that sounds?"

"Yes."

"And you don't think that's a problem?"

"I think pretending otherwise would be a bigger one."

She looked at him for several seconds.

That was Dante.

No apology.

No attempt to make ugly things sound beautiful.

Just the truth as he saw it.

Even when the truth made her uncomfortable.

Especially then.

Elena turned away from him and walked toward one of the bookshelves.

Her fingers moved across the spines.

"Salvatore told me about your uncle."

Behind her, silence.

She smiled faintly.

There it was.

The one thing she'd learned about Dante Marchetti in four days.

Silence could mean many things.

But his silence now meant she had found something important.

She turned.

Something in his face had gone completely still.

"Did he."

"He didn't tell me much."

"Salvatore talks too much."

"He barely talks at all."

"Then you've been asking the wrong questions."

Elena folded her arms.

"I asked one question."

"And?"

"He said your uncle was the last person you brought into this house like this."

Dante's eyes narrowed.

"Like what?"

"Against the natural order of things."

His expression hardened.

Elena noticed.

She was beginning to notice everything.

"He said your uncle thought kindness could control things."

Dante said nothing.

"And then he died."

The room seemed to change.

Not physically.

But Elena could feel the weight of the conversation settle between them.

She took a breath.

"I want to know something."

Dante leaned slightly against the edge of the desk near the window.

"You usually do."

She ignored the comment.

"I want to know if I should be afraid of you specifically."

His eyes lifted to hers.

Elena continued.

"Or if I should be afraid of what you represent generally."

For a moment, Dante didn't answer.

Then he said quietly, "They're the same problem."

Elena's stomach tightened.

She hadn't expected honesty.

She had expected deflection.

Dante moved farther into the room.

"My uncle believed kindness made him strong."

Elena remained silent.

"He forgave debts that should have been collected because the men who owed him cried at his feet."

She frowned.

"And that's why he died?"

"No."

His voice was calm.

"But it was one of the reasons people stopped fearing consequences."

He looked toward one of the windows.

"He let territory go because war was ugly. He allowed men who challenged him to walk away because killing them felt unnecessary."

Elena watched him carefully.

"And you disagreed."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Dante looked at her.

"Because mercy without consequence teaches dangerous people that they can keep coming back."

The words were cold.

But Elena heard something beneath them.

Experience.

Not philosophy.

Experience.

"What happened to him?"

Dante's gaze moved away.

For the first time, Elena wondered whether she'd gone too far.

Then he answered.

"He trusted someone who wanted his position."

Her breath caught.

"Someone killed him?"

"Someone betrayed him."

The distinction mattered.

She could hear it in his voice.

Elena took a slow step closer.

"And you took over."

"I had to."

"Did you want to?"

His expression changed.

Barely.

But enough.

"No."

That surprised her more than anything else he'd said.

She had imagined Dante wanting power.

Men like him always seemed to want power.

At least in stories.

But there was no pride in his voice.

No satisfaction.

Only acceptance.

"What happened after?"

Dante looked at her for a long moment.

"People stopped asking what I wanted."

Elena didn't understand.

He continued.

"They started asking what I would do."

A chill moved through her.

There it was.

The man everyone feared.

Not because he had asked for fear.

Because fear had become necessary for survival.

Or at least that was what he believed.

She studied him.

"You don't think there was another way?"

Dante's expression closed.

"There is always another way."

"Then why didn't you choose it?"

His eyes returned to hers.

"Because sometimes the other way gets people killed."

Elena held his gaze.

"That's convenient."

His mouth almost moved.

Almost.

"You've used that word before."

"I'll use it again."

"I know."

She walked away.

The silence followed her through the library.

She stopped near the shelves.

"So that's your philosophy?"

"What?"

"Control everything."

"No."

She turned back.

"That's not what it looks like from where I'm standing."

Dante considered that.

Then he nodded once.

"Fair."

The answer caught her off guard.

She hadn't expected him to agree.

Elena leaned against the shelf.

"What do you want from me?"

His expression became unreadable again.

"You've asked me that before."

"And you haven't answered properly."

"You are safe here."

"That wasn't my question."

"You have access to food, clothing, money."

"Still not my question."

His eyes narrowed.

Elena crossed her arms.

"What do you actually want from me, Dante?"

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then Dante looked away.

It was such a small thing.

But Elena noticed.

She had finally found a question he didn't know how to answer.

"I don't know yet," he said.

The honesty hit harder than she expected.

She stared at him.

"You don't know?"

"No."

"And you brought me here anyway?"

"Yes."

Elena laughed softly.

She couldn't help it.

"You're unbelievable."

"I've been told."

She shook her head.

"No, seriously. You built an entire arrangement around bringing me into your house, and you don't even know what you want from me?"

"I knew what I needed."

"And?"

Dante's gaze returned to hers.

"That's becoming less clear."

Her breath caught.

Just slightly.

She hated herself for it.

Elena turned away before he could see.

She walked toward the window.

Outside, the gardens stretched across the property.

Beautiful.

Forbidden.

The gates were barely visible through the trees.

"I don't trust you," she said.

"I know."

"You don't seem bothered by that."

"I'd be concerned if you trusted me after four days."

Elena looked over her shoulder.

"That's almost reasonable."

"Don't sound so disappointed."

A laugh escaped her.

A real one.

Small.

But real.

She immediately regretted it when Dante looked at her.

Not because he'd done anything.

Because he looked surprised.

As though he hadn't expected her to laugh around him.

The moment passed quickly.

Elena looked away.

Then she said, "I'm still going to find out what happened with your uncle."

Dante's expression flattened.

"Of course you are."

"You can stop me."

"I've noticed that stopping you usually makes you more determined."

She smiled faintly.

"You're learning."

"I hate that."

"No, you don't."

His gaze settled on her.

The silence stretched.

Elena's smile disappeared.

Something shifted in the air.

She suddenly became aware of how close he was.

Not close enough to touch.

But closer than before.

Her heartbeat changed.

Dante seemed to notice.

Of course he did.

He always noticed.

Elena stepped away from the window.

"So what happens now?"

"Now?"

"Yes."

"You continue reading."

She blinked.

"That's it?"

"For now."

"And the garden?"

"Still closed."

"You're very popular right now."

"I'll survive."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Do you ever get tired of yourself?"

"No."

"That must be peaceful."

"I wouldn't know."

Before she could respond, Dante's phone vibrated.

The sound changed him.

Instantly.

The almost-human version of him disappeared.

His posture straightened.

His expression hardened.

He looked at the screen.

Elena saw Salvatore's name.

Dante answered.

"What?"

Silence.

His face changed.

Only slightly.

But Elena saw it.

Something was wrong.

She waited.

Dante listened for several seconds.

Then said, "I'll be there."

The call ended.

Elena looked at him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

She stared.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Because you look exactly like a man who just received terrible news."

Dante put his phone away.

"Appearances can be misleading."

"You keep saying things like that."

"And you keep asking questions."

"Because you keep refusing to answer them."

For a moment, he simply looked at her.

Then something unexpected happened.

He sighed.

It was quiet.

Barely noticeable.

But Elena had never imagined Dante Marchetti sighing.

"There was an incident today."

Her expression changed.

"What kind of incident?"

"Nothing involving you directly."

"That's not comforting."

"I didn't intend it to be."

She waited.

Dante seemed to consider how much he was willing to say.

"Security around the house is changing."

Elena looked toward the library doors.

"Because of last night?"

"Partially."

"How many guards are there now?"

"Enough."

"That's not a number."

"It wasn't meant to be."

She sighed.

"You're impossible."

"I know."

She stared at him.

He continued.

"More guards will be visible around the property. Certain parts of the house will be restricted temporarily."

"More restrictions."

"Yes."

Elena's expression hardened.

"Dante."

"I wanted you to hear it from me before you noticed and drew the wrong conclusion."

She folded her arms.

"And what's the right conclusion?"

For the first time, he hesitated.

Only for a second.

But it was there.

Elena knew immediately that whatever he was about to say would not be the whole truth.

She waited anyway.

Dante looked directly at her.

"That I take your safety seriously."

The words landed somewhere beneath her anger.

She hated that.

She hated that part of her believed him.

"Why?"

His expression changed.

"What?"

"Why do you take my safety seriously?"

Dante didn't answer.

Elena stepped closer.

"I'm not your family."

Silence.

"I'm not part of your organization."

Nothing.

"I'm not even supposed to matter to you."

His eyes darkened.

"Elena."

"But apparently I do."

The words were out before she could stop them.

The room became very quiet.

Elena wished immediately that she could take them back.

Not because they weren't true.

Because she didn't know what his answer would be.

Dante looked at her for a long moment.

Then he said quietly, "Whatever else you decide about me, decide this too."

Her breath caught.

"I will protect you."

Something about the certainty in his voice frightened her.

Not because she thought he was lying.

Because she didn't.

Dante turned toward the door.

She watched him walk away.

Then he stopped.

His hand rested on the doorframe.

Without turning around, he said, "Lock your door tonight."

Elena's stomach dropped.

She stared at his back.

"What happened?"

He turned.

For a moment, she thought he might tell her.

Instead, he said, "Goodnight, Elena."

Then he left.

The doors closed behind him.

Elena stood alone in the library.

The book she'd been pretending to read remained open on the table.

But she couldn't remember a single word on the page.

She looked toward the doors.

Then toward the windows.

Outside, the garden was still.

Too still.

Dante had told her he would protect her.

She believed him.

That was the problem.

Because the more she learned about Dante Marchetti, the more she understood that he didn't make promises lightly.

And if he felt the need to promise her safety—

Then someone, somewhere, had given him a reason to believe she wasn't safe.

Elena closed the book.

For the first time since entering his house, she understood something that frightened her more than the locked gates.

Dante Marchetti was dangerous.

She had known that from the beginning.

But she was beginning to realize something worse.

He was also becoming difficult to fear.