Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Izzy’s heart raced in her chest, a drumbeat that drowned out everything around her. The air felt too thick, pressing against her lungs, and for a split second, she thought she might choke on it. She locked eyes with Dante again, desperate to hold onto the remnants of herself that still fought against him. But the truth clawed at her from the inside out—he was right. There was no escaping him, no outrunning the shadow of his world.

She had learned that the hard way.

The hand that hovered near her shoulder, the one from the man in the suit who had grabbed her arm, made her flinch. His grip was firm, cold, and impersonal, but Dante’s eyes were what held her still. His gaze was like a brand, searing through her defenses, making her feel small, insignificant. She wanted to scream, to throw herself against the walls of the diner, to tear out of the suffocating grip of this moment, but her body betrayed her. It wouldn’t move.

She couldn’t let him see her weakness, not now. Not ever again.

"I won’t go with you," Izzy said again, her voice hoarse but resolute. It was a lie. She was already slipping, already unsure, and she hated herself for it.

Dante took a slow step forward, so calm it almost unnerved her. "You will. You’re already part of this world, whether you admit it or not." His words were a soft, sinister hum beneath the surface, and the weight of them crushed down on her chest.

His hand reached out, brushing her cheek once more—an intimacy that felt like a mockery now. Izzy flinched at the contact, but this time she didn’t pull away. His touch was like a ghost from their past, a reminder of the way things used to be before everything fell apart. She hated how her body responded to it, how it ached for something she couldn’t have, something that was long gone.

"You think you're protecting her," Dante murmured, his voice smooth as silk, but there was a hardness beneath it. "Your daughter doesn’t stand a chance if you keep hiding from me."

Izzy's stomach lurched. "You don't know anything about Maya," she spat, her voice thick with anger. "You don’t get to dictate her life."

Dante’s lips curled, a cold smile spreading across his face as if he found her resistance amusing. "Oh, I know more than you think. And Maya is mine now, whether you like it or not."

The words stung like a slap, more than anything he’d said before. The way he said it—so sure of himself, so damn confident—made her blood run cold. She felt the familiar pang in her chest, the one she tried so desperately to ignore, the one that reminded her of the life she’d left behind and the love she’d lost.

But she wouldn’t let him have that power over her again.

"I told you, Dante," Izzy said, her voice trembling but defiant. "I’m not going back. I won't be part of your world. Not now, not ever again."

Dante’s eyes flickered with something—an emotion, a warning, maybe—but it was gone before she could name it. He stepped back, his hand falling from her cheek. The moment of tenderness, if it could even be called that, vanished, replaced by the hard, cold reality of the man he had become.

He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he nodded once, a single sharp movement. "We’ll see, Izzy." His tone was final, like a door slamming shut. "You don’t get to decide this time. Not anymore."

The man behind him stepped forward again, this time with more urgency. His fingers closed around her wrist with an iron grip, dragging her toward the door. Izzy’s heart pounded in her ears, the beat deafening. She twisted in his grasp, panic flooding her veins.

"No!" she shouted, her voice raw with desperation. "Don’t you dare—"

But the man didn’t slow down. He yanked her toward the door with a force that nearly had her stumbling. Izzy’s mind raced. There had to be something—anything—that could stop this.

But as they passed the windows of the diner, she saw it.

Two black cars were parked across the street, engines idling, their tinted windows reflecting the dim streetlights. More men. More eyes on her, watching from the shadows, waiting for her to make a wrong move. She felt the weight of them, pressing in from every direction. The feeling of being trapped, cornered, suffocated—it was all too familiar.

The doors of the diner swung open with a heavy creak, and the cool night air hit her face, sharp and biting. Izzy stumbled, caught between the men, her pulse racing faster as she realized there was no escape.

She glanced back one last time, searching for anything, anyone.

Dante was standing just inside the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the dim light, watching her with that same cold, calculating expression. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He already knew.

Izzy had never felt so small.

She was nothing but a pawn in his game, a piece he could move as he wished. And there was nothing she could do to change that.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. She would protect Maya. No matter the cost. Even if it meant stepping into Dante’s world again, even if it meant walking right into the hell she had fought so hard to leave behind.

Because in the end, she would fight for her daughter.

But in that moment, as the man shoved her into the back seat of the black car, Izzy couldn’t shake the feeling that she was already lost.