Chapter 6

“No… No… don’t hurt me, Marcus. Please…please…”

I struggled against invincible chains. My body shaking as I tried to find my ground.

But there was no ground. I was in the darkness.

Alone.

“Hello.”

I called out, my voice echoing in the darkness. There was no reply until…the world plunged me down. I screamed as I was dragged down through the darkness.

My own voice yanked me out of sleep. I jerked, body twitching against the chain. My wrist ached where the cuff bit into my flesh.

For a second, I wasn’t sure if I was awake or still trapped in that dream. My throat burned, lungs tight, heart slamming against my chest.

Something poked my cheek.

I snapped. My free hand shot out, fingers clamping around a wrist before I even thought.

“Ah! Ow! Let go, let go!”

The voice was small, startled.

I blinked into the dim light. Zara.

Her round glasses were crooked, her eyes wide behind them.

“Oh,” I breathed, loosening my grip. “It’s you.”

She rubbed her wrist dramatically. “Damn, you’re fast. Didn’t peg you for the grabby type.”

I frowned, sitting up as far as the chain allowed. “You… you’re not supposed to be here.”

“And you’re not supposed to talk.” She tilted her head. “But look at you. Talking just fine.”

I froze. “Wait. What?”

Her grin widened. “I mean you couldn't talk when I found you. Why are you looking at me like I caught you sneaking cookies?”

I stared. “Zara…I thought you couldn’t remember me.”

Her brows rose. “Oh, that. Yeah, Dante’s little memory-wipe trick.” She rolled her eyes. “He should know by now that crap doesn’t work on me.”

My chest tightened. “But… he said—”

“He says a lot of things,” she cut in, plopping onto the bed like she owned it. “I let him believe it works. It’s easier than arguing with Mr. Murdery all the time.”

I just gaped at her. He lied to me? Or… no. She’s telling the truth. I can see it in her face. She remembers.

Zara leaned closer, lowering her voice like we were sharing gossip. “Thing is, I’ve got… call it an immunity. Always had it. Dad says it’s something in our bloodline, but I don’t care about the science.” She tapped her temple. “My head’s mine. No one’s messing with it.”

I shook my head slowly. “You knew. This whole time.”

“Knew what?” She shrugged. “That Dante brought home a half-dead, silver-haired girl who doesn’t ranted about being reborn? Yeah.”

“You…” I swallowed. “You seem calm. You don’t think I’m crazy?”

Zara smirked. “I mean, you look a little crazy right now. Chained to a bed, screaming at yourself in your sleep.” She nudged me with her elbow. “But no. Not that kind of crazy.”

My hands clenched in the blanket. “He thinks I’m lying.”

“Of course he does. Dante doesn’t trust anybody. Not me, not himself, not even his own shadow.” She tilted her head at me. “But me? I know when someone’s faking.”

My throat tightened. “I’m not faking.”

“Didn’t think you were.” She studied me for a moment, surprisingly serious. “You’ve got that look. Like somebody who’s lived through hell and crawled out the other side just to flip it off.”

I let out a shaky breath. If only she knew how close to the truth that was.

“Dante told me, by the way,” Zara whispered, adjusting her crooked glasses. “He said you were killed. He told me everything after lots of questipns. Im sorry. For what happened to you.”

I forced a small smile. “You don’t need to be sorry,” I murmured. My fingers picked at the edge of the blanket, chain rattling softly. “You didn’t do it.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed, boots dangling. Her face softened, no teasing this time. “Nobody deserves that. And you looked… like you’ve been through enough for three lifetimes.”

I swallowed. The lump in my throat hurt worse than the cuff on my wrist. Indeed. I have.

“Can you… help me?”

“No. She can’t.”

The question barely left my lips when a voice cut through the dim cabin.

Zara and I both stiffened.

Dante filled the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame, lantern light catching on the ink winding up his arms. His presence dragged the air heavy, like all the oxygen had been claimed by him.

“Dante—” Zara started, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Out.” His tone carried no room for argument.

I jerked the chain, metal clanging as I tried to sit straighter. “She’s not hurting anyone.”

His boots thudded against the wood floor as he stepped inside. His eyes flicked to me, flat and assessing, before landing on Zara again. “My job is to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Zara threw her hands up. “From what? She’s chained to a bedpost, Dante! What can she do to me?”

“Zara,” he warned, voice edged like a blade.

She didn’t flinch. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “She’s a girl. A girl who’s been through way too much. You can’t just chain her up and act like she’s some monster.”

He stared at her, jaw tight. The muscles in his neck flexed as though he was holding back something sharper.

“She says she was reborn,” he said finally, low and hard. “That’s not an explanation. That’s a story. We don’t know who she is. We don’t know what she is. And I won’t risk you because you feel sorry for her.”

“I don’t feel sorry for her,” Zara shot back. “I believe her.”

“She melted steel with her bare hands,” he said, each word clipped. “She survived what should’ve killed her. That doesn’t make her harmless. That makes her dangerous.”

I clenched my fists in the blanket. “I didn’t ask for this. You think I wanted to crawl out of the ground covered in slime? You think I chose it?”

Dante’s gaze snapped to me. Those icy eyes cut like they were built to strip me down.

“You could’ve fooled me,” he said quietly.

“See?” Zara pointed at me, then at him. “She’s telling the truth. You’re just too paranoid to admit it.”

His head tilted toward her, slow and deliberate. “Paranoia keeps you alive.”

“No,” she countered, voice sharp with conviction. “People keep people alive. She’s not lying. She needs food, clothes, training—hell, even just a warm blanket. She’s like a plant, Dante. You don’t just rip it from the dirt and expect it to thrive. You give it sun, water, care. That’s how it grows.”

He exhaled through his nose, long and heavy. For a moment, his eyes softened, but then his mask slid back into place.

“We don’t know her enough to trust her,” he said. “Not where she came from. Not why she’s here. Not what she’s capable of.”

I leaned forward, chains rattling. “Then test me. Watch me. Train me. Do whatever you want—but don’t keep me chained like a dog. Please.”

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t answer.

Zara crossed her arms, stubborn as stone. “Please.”

For a moment, it felt like even the fire in the lanterns waited on him. Then Dante finally spoke.

“Seventy-two hours.” His voice was flat, cold. “That’s how long you get. After that, I decide your fate.”

My stomach tightened, but Zara’s face lit like she’d won.

“That’s good enough, you are doing well Danie,” she said quickly.

“Don’t push it,” Dante warned, shifting his eyes to her. “And don’t come back in here. I don’t want you hurt.”

Zara groaned dramatically. “Always so overprotective.” She turned to me and winked. “I’ll be back soon with something decent for you to wear. Maybe even food that isn’t jerky.”

Her grin softened into something almost sisterly. “Hang in there, okay?”

I nodded, unsure if my throat would let sound out.

Zara smiled wider, then spun toward the door.

“I said out,” Dante snapped.

“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Going. Don’t break her before I come back, Mr. Sunshine.”

The door shut behind her with a thud.

The silence after felt hollow and deep. I bit my lips in nervousness. Eyeing his movement. I didn't want him to place a knife against my throat anymore.

That shit hurts…a lot.

And for some reason, my wolf…it's gone and I wasn't healing

Dante scoffed, a humorless sound, and started toward me.

His gait was slow, like a predator closing in. My pulse picked up, and I shifted back against the headboard, every instinct screaming to move but nowhere to go.

He reached the bed, crouched slightly, and caught the chain in his fist. The links rattled harshly as he yanked me forward. His other hand clamped my wrist, squeezing hard enough to make me wince.

His ice-blue eyes pinned me where I sat. “Do you know how to bathe,” he asked softly, dangerously, “or do you need help?”