Chapter 13

LEAH

I hadn't seen Dante the entire day, but honestly, I couldn't bring myself to look at him because I'll question in, and I didn't have that energy to receive any form of answers at this point

I was past midnight and was yet to be back which made me worry, he had been in a meeting according to Gareth all day, so I didn't bother, but it was midnight and I was starting to get worried

Standing up I looked at the drawer again, and I couldn't help myself but walk to it to get a look at it once more.

My fingers trembled as I traced the edges of the portrait. The paper had yellowed with age, but the image was unmistakable, it was me. Younger, maybe by a few years, but undeniably me. My hair was the same shade, my eyes carrying the same uncertainty I had worn all my life.

And it didn't matter how much I tried remembering the image, I couldn't

A chill ran down my spine as I scanned the drawer, hoping for more clues. Nothing. Just the portrait, carefully preserved like a relic of the past. My stomach twisted. Why did Dante have this? And why did he keep it hidden?

I shut the drawer carefully, making sure everything remained undisturbed. My mind raced with possibilities, none of them making sense. I wanted answers, but something inside me whispered that I wasn’t ready for the truth. Not yet.

I shut my eyes before picking my rub and heading towards his office. The further I walked, the louder his voice got. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he seemed angry which didn't sit well with me and I pushed the door open revealing a very stressed out Dante.

“What's wrong?” He looked at me from the desk and for second he seemed to have forgotten about my existence.

“Just few packs businesses” He returned to writing, but I pulled the pen from his hand and the papers away

“It's midnight and as much as I enjoyed my entire day without you in it, I hate the idea of you being here” He looked at me like I had two heads

“Fine”

We went to bed peacefully but when I woke up, he was gone and I remembered my training was starting today. Letting out a sigh I decided to forced myself to focus on whether I could control training.

Dante had insisted I become stronger, and if I was going to survive in his world, I had to learn. So, I pushed my thoughts aside, threw on some workout clothes, and headed toward the training grounds.

The scent of sweat and earth filled the air as warriors sparred around me. The rhythmic sounds of fists colliding with flesh, the grunts of exertion, and the occasional barked command created a symphony of discipline and brutality.

Dante was already there, watching with his usual unreadable expression. His sharp, golden eyes flicked toward me the moment I stepped onto the grounds, something flickering in them for the briefest moment before his usual mask of indifference settled back in place.

“You’re late,” he said, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“I didn’t realize we had a schedule,” I shot back, masking my nerves with sarcasm.

Dante smirked, a slow, deliberate curl of his lips. “You do now. Drop and give me fifty."

My jaw dropped. “Fifty? That’s…”

“Sixty,” he corrected, arching a brow in challenge.

I groaned but obeyed, dropping to the ground. My arms ached after just ten, but I bit down my complaints, determined not to let him see any weakness. He stood over me, silent, observing like a predator watching its prey.

Each push-up felt like a battle against my limitations, but I refused to stop. When I finally finished, panting and weak, he extended a hand. I hesitated before taking it, and the moment our skin met, a strange warmth spread through me.

He pulled me to my feet with effortless strength. “Good,” he murmured, his voice softer than before. “Again.”

And so it continued. The training was brutal, pushing me past what, I thought, were my limits. Every time I faltered, Dante pushed me harder. He was relentless, yet strangely patient, his gaze sharp but never cruel. And with each passing moment, I felt something shift inside me not just strength, but a quiet determination. A fire I hadn’t known existed.

We moved on to sparring. I barely dodged his strikes, my body sluggish compared to his effortless movements. Dante was a force of nature, precise, controlled, deadly.

Every block, every counterattack I attempted, he anticipated. By the time I landed on my back for the fifth time, I was drenched in sweat, gasping for air.

“Again,” he ordered, his tone unwavering.

Frustration boiled inside me. “What’s the point? You know I can’t beat you.”

His gaze darkened. “Not with that attitude.”

I grit my teeth and forced myself up. This time, I focused on his movements, not just reacting but predicting. When he struck, I dodged just in time, barely grazing past his fist. A flicker of something approval? Surprise? Crossed his face. Encouraged, I threw a punch of my own. He caught my wrist effortlessly but didn’t counter immediately.

“Better,” he admitted, his voice low. “But not good enough.”

Then he twisted, pulling me unbalanced, and I crashed to the ground once more. A sharp breath left my lips as the impact jarred my spine. Before I could move, Dante was suddenly over me, pinning my wrists against the dirt. His weight was a solid presence, his scent of cedar and smoke wrapping around me.

I stared up at him, my breath hitching. His eyes searched mine, something unreadable in them. For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled away, standing. “Enough for today.”

I sat up, my heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with exhaustion. He handed me a bottle of water, his fingers brushing against mine. “You did well,” he said, and for the first time, I saw a glimmer of something softer in his expression.

I looked away, gripping the bottle tightly. “Thanks.”

“Get some rest,” he instructed. “We start again tomorrow.”

As I walked back toward the house, my mind drifted back to the portrait. I had been determined to forget about it for now, but Dante… he was hiding something. And I needed to find out what.

DANTE'S P.O.V.

The moment Leah walked away, I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders. She was getting stronger, physically and mentally. That was good. She needed to be prepared for what was coming.

But that wasn’t my only concern.

I strode toward my office, shutting the door behind me. The room was dimly lit, the scent of aged parchment filling the space. My gaze drifted toward the ancient scroll on my desk. The same one I had studied countless times, searching for answers.

I unrolled it, my eyes scanning the faded ink. The prophecy had always been a mystery, its words strange and layered in secrecy. But one thing was undeniable, Leah’s name. It was there, glowing faintly, as if it had been written in fire.

Fate had chosen her. But why?

My fingers curled into fists. I had spent years preparing for my role, but Leah? She had no idea what she was walking into. No idea that she was the key to something far greater than she could comprehend.

And I didn’t know if I had the strength to tell her the truth.

A knock on the door snapped me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I ordered.

The palace's elder, Gregor, stepped inside, his face lined with concern. “Have you told her yet?”

I clenched my jaw. “Not yet.”

Gregor sighed, stepping closer. “You know you can’t keep this from her forever, Dante. She deserves to know.”

“I know,” I admitted. My gaze flickered back to the scroll. “But if she knew, she might run.”

“She might also fight,” Gregor countered. “And if the prophecy is true, she’s the only one who can.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration clawing at my insides. Leah was strong, but was she ready? Was I?

“She found the portrait,” I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face.

Gregor’s face darkened. “Then she’s closer to the truth than you think.”

I stiffened. “I won’t let her get hurt.”

“Then prepare her, Dante. Because the moment she discovers the truth, there will be no going back.”

As I stared at her name on the scroll, I knew one thing for certain, the truth was coming. And when it did, everything would change.

For both of us.