Chapter 5

The Russo mansion was silent at night, but inside Elena’s room, her thoughts were deafening.

She sat curled up on the large bed, knees tucked to her chest, staring at the shadows that stretched across the walls. The unfamiliar scent of the expensive sheets, the dim glow of the moon through the tall windows—it was all too much. Too foreign. Too terrifying.

She had barely been here for a day, and already she felt like a prisoner.

Her mind kept replaying the moment she arrived. The cold welcome from Valeria, the way Lorenzo had smirked at her like she was some new toy, and worst of all, the suffocating silence from everyone else. No one had come to check on her, not even a maid. It was like she didn’t exist.

Except for him.

Her fingers tightened against her arms as she thought about Dante.

He had been watching her all evening. She felt his gaze during dinner, dark and calculating, his expression unreadable. And then, when she had been forced to sit there as Lorenzo acted like a perfect host, pretending he hadn't threatened her earlier, Dante had done nothing.

He only stared.

She should hate him just as much as the others, shouldn’t she?

Then why was she so afraid to close her eyes?

A noise.

Elena’s breath hitched. A soft click at the door.

Her heart pounded. She wasn’t locked in? Lorenzo said she would be.

She slowly turned toward the door, watching as the handle moved with eerie slowness.

A chill ran down her spine.

She shot up, stumbling back against the bedpost, her pulse hammering as the door creaked open.

And then—

Dante stepped inside.

He moved like a shadow, the faint light catching against his sharp features, highlighting the cold intensity in his eyes.

Elena pressed herself against the wooden post, fists clenching. “Get out.”

Dante didn’t react.

He shut the door behind him, leaning against it as if he had all the time in the world.

His dark gaze flicked to the bruises on her wrists, the ones Lorenzo left when he grabbed her earlier. His expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his stance, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Elena followed his gaze and quickly pulled her sleeves down, her breath uneven.

Dante’s voice was low, controlled. “Did he touch you?”

She swallowed, gripping her arms. “Why do you care?”

Silence.

Then, he took a step forward.

Elena’s pulse spiked. “Stay back.”

He stopped but didn’t leave. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“You’re terrified.” His voice was quiet, almost…curious.

Elena’s throat tightened.

“No one is going to protect you here, pequena.” His words were soft but laced with warning. “Not the maids. Not the guards. Not even your own family.”

Her fingers dug into her arms. “I already know that.”

Dante’s lips twitched, but there was no humor in it. “Then why are you still so naïve?”

She snapped her head up, glaring. “What do you want from me?”

For the first time, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then, just like that, it was gone.

He took another step forward, and before she could move, his hand gently caught her chin.

Elena froze.

His touch was light, barely there, but the effect was suffocating. His fingers were rough, calloused from years of violence, but he wasn’t hurting her.

He was just holding her still.

His thumb ghosted over her skin as he whispered, “I don’t know yet.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

Dante lingered for a moment, his dark eyes locked onto hers, and then, he let go.

“Go to sleep, Elena.” His voice was quiet, but it left no room for argument.

She didn’t move until he was gone.

In the morning~

The tension at breakfast was suffocating.

Elena sat stiffly at the large dining table, her hands in her lap, eyes downcast.

Lorenzo sat at the head, smiling like the devil himself, acting as if everything was normal. The little girl seemed too innocent and oblivious to everything happening around her or the kind of den her parents had sold her off to. He was going to have a good time relishing the opportunity to have her as his, seeing that it made his foolish don go crazy.

Dante was across from her, silent. He didn’t touch his food, didn’t speak unless necessary. But his eyes never left her.

And then there was Valeria.

Dante’s mother sat poised, sipping her coffee with calculated grace. Every once in a while, her sharp gaze flicked toward Elena, her expression unreadable.

But then—a cold smile.

“I am surprised she even knows how to hold a fork,” Valeria mused, stirring her cup slowly. “You were raised in a cage, weren’t you, querida?”

Elena’s grip tightened around the silverware, but she didn’t answer.

Lorenzo chuckled. “My wife will learn. Won’t you, Elena?”

She swallowed, nodding stiffly.

Dante’s fingers tapped once against the table. A small movement, but Elena felt it.

He was irritated.

By what? His mother? Lorenzo? Her?

Dante~

Dante didn’t lose control often. But today—

Today was different.

The moment he stepped into Lorenzo’s office, he didn’t hesitate. He slammed his fist against the desk, voice deadly.

“Stay away from her.”

Lorenzo, completely unfazed, leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Possessive, are we?”

Dante’s jaw clenched. “I won’t warn you again.”

Lorenzo laughed, standing. “You think you can control what happens to her? You think she belongs to you?” He walked around the desk, his voice low, mocking. “Because that’s not how this works.”

Dante grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the bookshelf. “Touch her again, and I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”

Lorenzo didn’t flinch. He simply smirked. “You’re getting soft, Dante. It’s pathetic.”

A voice interrupted them.

“Boys.”

Dante released him instantly.

Valeria.

She stood by the doorway, watching. Amused.

Dante didn’t say another word. He left.

But his rage wasn’t gone.

He was going to have this conversation again with his father because he needed to know what was going on, why his father had to get a wife and of all wives it had to be her.

He had never met her before until that night he caught her running away and the second time he ran into her at his club.

He didn’t know why he felt a sudden urge to protect her. Probably it was because he knew how much of a dangerous man his father was and she, was far too innocent to be involved in their kind of drama.

But she’s not too innocent to be involved with you?

He’s subconscious threw a sharp jab at him, one meant to remind him she was not meant to be involved with any of them, both him and his father nor any other person in this world of theirs.

‘She deserved better’

He thought.

And he was going to make sure of that.

He will first make sure he finds out why her family kept her hidden from the rest of the world, most importantly why her dumb and average looking sister felt she stood more chance with him, than her.

The Deveraux family are up to something and he would make sure he sniffs it out before it gets too late.

~ ~ ~

The next night,Elena was restless. She couldn’t explain why.

And then—Dante appeared again.

This time, he wasn’t just here to talk.

He handed her a burner phone.

“Use it if you need me.”

Elena hesitated but took it.

For a moment, they just stood there. The air was thick, charged with unspoken emotions.

And then—

BANG.

A gunshot shattered the silence.

Elena’s breath caught.

Dante’s hand shot to his gun. His voice was sharp, urgent.

“Don’t move.”