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Chapter Fourteen – Dante
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2025-09-18 17:25:44
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Bound By Vengeance Chapter Thirty Nine – Selena
The knock came at dusk.It was soft, polite even, but it reverberated through my chest like a warning bell.I sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around myself, staring at the fading light spilling across the garden walls. The orange glow bled into shadow, swallowing the flowers, turning beauty into something sinister. Every nightfall here felt like a theft—of freedom, of air, of me.The door creaked open.Two women slipped inside. Not guards. Not soldiers. Women.Their steps were quiet, measured, rehearsed. Their eyes stayed lowered, never rising above my chin. They carried garment bags draped carefully over their arms and lacquered boxes that clinked faintly with whatever delicate contents lay inside.They didn’t speak. They didn’t dare.They simply moved to the bed and began their silent ritual—unzipping, unfolding, arranging.The air shifted with their presence, heavy with unspoken truth. I knew instantly—this was his doing.Clothes.Not the loose, shapeless garments
Bound By Vengeance Chapter Thirty Eight - Dante
Silence.That single, fragile silence meant more to me than if she had fallen to her knees.Selena Cruz—my defiant, fire-eyed enemy bride—hadn’t told me no. She hadn’t spat in my face. She hadn’t cursed me.She had said nothing.And in her silence, I heard everything.I let my finger linger beneath her chin a second longer than necessary, savoring the heat of her skin, the tremor she tried to hide. Her eyes burned with hatred, but hatred was easy. Hatred was safe.This… this was different.This was hesitation.This was the first crack in the fortress she’d built around herself. A fortress I had sworn to breach.Her lips parted, as if a retort hovered there, sharp enough to cut. But the words never came. She swallowed them down instead, and in that absence, I tasted victory.Slowly, deliberately, I drew back. My touch fell away, leaving her skin cold in its absence. I gave her space she didn’t expect. Her body swayed almost imperceptibly, like she’d been leaning into me without realizi
Bound By Vengeance Chapter Thirty Seven - Selena
The knock was soft. Too soft.The kind of sound that made your pulse skip because you knew—whoever it was, they weren’t really asking permission.Before I could even answer, the door opened.And there he was.Dante.Filling the doorway like a shadow carved into flesh. Dark suit. Darker eyes. That calm, lethal stillness that made the air itself hesitate to move around him. He didn’t just enter a room—he reshaped it.I froze by the window, coffee cup still warm in my hands. My heartbeat hammered so violently against my ribs it was almost embarrassing, like a drum that refused to be silenced. I was sure he could hear it.He didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, framed in the doorway, watching me. Not casually. Not idly. Watching me like I was the only thing in existence worth his attention. Drinking me in with the kind of hunger that stripped skin from bone. The kind of hunger I had just tried—desperately—to deny in myself.My throat tightened, dry, aching.I hated silence with h
Bound By Vengeance Chapter Thirty Six - Dante
“You had breakfast,” I said simply. Not a question. An observation that could be offered as praise or threat, depending on how she chose to hear it.Her laugh—short, brittle—landed somewhere between vindication and protest. “You left it there,” she said. “You decided to let me have it.” Her voice held that tautness I knew so well: the strain of someone rehearsing their own first lines of survival.I stepped closer and let the hallway’s last light soften the lines on my face. I watched her more than I spoke because watching was the true work. Notes of smoke and something citrusy clung to me; scents that made a room a ledger.“I did,” I admitted. “I like to see how you manage choices.” My words were deliberate, patent with two meanings. They were both compliment and classification. “It’s informative.”Our distance compressed until it was a single motion away from intimate, and yet I kept my hands to myself—because touch, untimed, is a liability. I let the silence swell instead, a compac
Bound By Vengeance Chapter Thirty Five - Dante
There it was.The sound I’d been waiting for.Soft. Barely audible. But unmistakable.A moan — not a surrender of the body, not a plea, but a small, human sound snagged between hunger and habit. It landed in the room like a stone thrown into still water, and the ripples mattered more than the stone itself.Selena Cruz: proud, furious, stubborn, and for the first time since I had her, imperfect. Imperfect in the way every living thing is when it’s prodded at the right pressure point. That small, involuntary noise told me what a thousand calculated moves could not: that she was vulnerable in ways my cameras and my men could chart but never quite understand.I leaned forward in the chair, the monitors painting sharp planes of light across my face. Her profile filled a dozen screens—one real woman multiplied into many glass facsimiles. Steam hovered over a cup. A hand brushed silk. A blink that lasted a fraction too long. Every smallness aggregated into a map of her limits.Pleasure. A da
Bound By Vengeance Chapter Thirty Four
That afternoon dissolved into a haze of small actions: I tried on different dresses, nothing too flashy but all carefully chosen to test the boundaries of what I was allowed to be. I ate more. I walked the length of the room and then the balcony again, cataloguing possible exits like a woman making lists of escape routes in her head. Each time the camera recorded me, I performed indifference, but under my ribs something else hummed. A dangerous, delicious hush.When the sun slid low and the room melted into the honeyed colors of evening, the silence shifted. It thickened and took on a cadence—like breaths timed to someone else’s footsteps. The camera’s red eye was a bead of coal; I could almost feel the heat of it.I stood in the doorway, the dress clinging like a second skin. I could hear him before I saw him: shoes on marble, the precise, controlled rhythm of a man who measured everything. The doorknob turned and his silhouette filled the frame—tall, composed, the kind of presence t
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