She owes me

***

DANTE

***

She laughed.

That bitter, broken sound cut through the silence of the room like a blade. It wasn’t real laughter. It was pain dressed in mockery.

I watched her red rimmed eyes, holding so much anger and hurt they could drown a man. She was raggard, bleeding, weak, yet somehow proud.

She looked at me like a wounded doe, snarling even when her ribs were cracked.

“I don’t need your help,” she whispered, voice hoarse but sharp enough to cut. “Don’t bother. I’ll fight my battles alone.”

And then she moved. God, she actually moved.

She pushed herself up from the bed. Slowly. Painfully. Every breath was a struggle, and yet she stood. On trembling legs.

My jaw clenched.

Every instinct inside me screamed to drag her back, pin her down, force her to listen—to understand she wasn’t going anywhere without me.

But I didn’t stop her.

She staggered, like a leaf caught in a storm, clutching the bedpost for support. Then, step by step, she walked away. Weak. Defiant. Beautiful.

For a moment, the silence wrapped around me again, heavy and cold. The dim light pooled over the empty bed where she had been. I stared at it, letting the storm inside me settle into something sharper.

So… she really thought she could walk away from me?

A low sound left my throat—something between a laugh and a growl.

My jaw tightened. My hands curled into fists by my sides. I walked to the balcony, pushing the glass door open, the night air hit my face, cool, soft.

From here, I could see her. Tiny. Weak. Staggering like a stray in the rain-soaked driveway. She was bleeding again. Her wet hair clinging to her back.

Still walking. Still proud in her misery.

Stubborn little thing.

Footsteps approached behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“You’re just going to let her go?”

I didn’t answer at first. Just rested my hands on the railing, eyes fixed on her retreating figure.

“Should I send the men after her?” Rowan’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. He was leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored pants, dark brows drawn together in question. “She’s barely standing on her feet. It would take two minutes to bring her back.”

I still didn’t answer. I watched her vanish into the darkness, swallowed by the night. My jaw tightened.

“Dante.” Rowan’s voice was sharper this time. “Are you really letting her walk out of here?”

Finally, I turned my head slightly, enough for him to see the flicker of cold amusement in my eyes. “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? She’s the reason you came back, isn’t she?” He pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, his voice dropping low. “You disappeared for years, Dante. You burned everything behind you. And now you returned you're telling me you’re just going to let her slip through your fingers?”

Slip through my fingers?

I almost laughed.

“She’s not slipping anywhere,” I said slowly, each word laced with the truth he couldn’t understand. “She can run. She can fight. She can hate me all she wants. None of that matters.”

I stepped closer, the night’s shadows bending around me. My voice dropped, dark and steady.

“She belongs to me.”

Rowan stared at me, shock flickering in his eyes. But I wasn’t done.

“No matter how stubborn she is. No matter how far she goes. She’s mine. And I don’t need to chase her tonight… because in the end…” I turned back to the balcony, watching the empty road, my chest tight with something dark, almost feral.

“She’ll come back. Or I’ll take her back. One way or another.”

My jaw clenched as the thought burned in my mind, carving its place deep in my soul.

She doesn’t even know.


She doesn’t even understand what she means to me.


But she will.

I’ll make her understand.

And when that day comes… There won’t be anywhere left for her to run.

Rowan studied me for a long moment. “You sound like a man obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” I said quietly, my tone like steel. “I’m inevitable.”

He frowned. “You’re talking like she belongs to you.”

I titled my head, my eyes dark. “She does.”

Rowan’s brows shot up. “Last I checked, she walked out that door. Doesn’t seem like yours to me.”

I smiled then, slow and dangerous, the kind of smile that made men step back. “Rowan,” I said softly, “it doesn’t matter how far she runs. She could cross oceans, bury herself under a thousand names, and it wouldn’t change what’s already true.”

Rowan craned his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “And what’s that?”

“That she’s MINE,” I said simply. The words weren’t loud, but they carried weight, like a vow carved in stone.

Rowan stared at me, silent for a beat. “You don’t even sound like yourself,” he muttered finally. “What’s so special about her, Dante? Why this girl?”

I walked back inside, poured myself a drink from the decanter on the side table, the amber liquid catching the light as I tilted the glass. My reflection in the crystal was sharp, cold. “What’s so special about her?” I repeated softly, swirling the liquor. Then I looked at him, my eyes like a shadowed storm. “She owes me.”

Rowan’s brow furrowed. “Owes you?”

“Yes.” I lifted the glass to my lips, took a slow sip. “And I’m going to collect.”

He stared at me like he was trying to read the thoughts behind my eyes. He wouldn’t succeed. No one ever did.

“What happens when she finds out the truth? That she owes you?” he asked finally.

I looked out the balcony again, watching the rain-soaked streets where she had vanished. My lips curved in a smile that held no warmth.

“She will,” I murmured. “And when she does…” My voice dropped lower, darker. “She’ll understand why she could never escape me.”

Rowan exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” I said, picking up my drink again. “But she’s still mine.”

And as the city lights flickered against the glass in my hand, I thought about the girl who walked away from me tonight. Torn, bleeding, broken.

And I knew, with the kind of certainty that settled in my bones like fire, that she wouldn’t stay away for long.

Because Irene and I—we had a score to settle.

And I never leave things unfinished.