Father?

Dante was seated behind a hulking mahogany desk, his eyes narrowed at the scene before him. His chair was angled towards the door, as though by design, but from that point, he had a clear view of everything: the trembling captive, his loyal men, and even the faint shadow at the doorside.

He said nothing. The only sound in the room was the ragged, uneven breaths of the man on the floor.

With the flick of a hand, Dante motioned for one of his men to speak.

“Don.” The soldier bowed his head slightly. “We caught this one snooping near the docks, taking pictures. Claims he’s a nobody, but we found this in his pocket.”

The folded paper was tossed onto the desk. Dante’s eyes shifted from the bruised man to the note, which he unfolded unhurriedly. His brows lifted in a brief surprise before settling again into cool indifference. The initials on the page said enough.

Detective A.

Dante’s chuckle was low, humorless, as he set the paper down. He looked at the door and still found her shadow lingering. The look in his eyes hinted at something sinister.

“Since you enjoy watching from the shadows, Cassandra…” his voice was smooth, his words unhurried, laced with quiet authority. “...step inside”

Cassandra's heart dropped. She hadn't imagined it, he called out to her. She thought she was hidden in plain sight, but somehow Dante's gaze still found her.

Dante's men turned, brows furrowing when they noticed her figure at the door. For a moment, Cassandra thought of fleeing, of running back to her room and pretending she had never been here. But her legs disobeyed.

Against her will, she pushed the door wider with trembling hands and entered the study. She swallowed, her eyes glued to the rug underneath her legs.

The captive’s muffled grunts filled her ears, his desperate eyes begging her for something she could not give. She dared not look too long.

Dante leaned back in his leather chair, one arm resting lazily on the desk, the other lifting to motion her closer. The faint curl of his lips was not quite a smile. “Don't be scared,” his words were almost tender, but his eyes did not hide the contrast.

He was savoring her fear.

Cassandra stopped at a distance between the door and his desk, her sweaty palms rubbing the hem of her skirt. Her lips parted hastily with a believable explanation “Mr. Krüger, sir, I'm sorry I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was going to my room when—”

“They are awaiting your orders” Dante cut in.

Cassandra's words ceased. She blinked “What…?” She looked at Dante's men, their eyes were kept forward, their grips tightening around the prisoner.

Dante continued “He was caught trespassing on my property. Tell me, Mein Engel, what should I do with him?”

Her brows furrowed uneasily. Was he…teasing her? She stammered a response “I…I couldn't—”

“Give your orders,” he said, this time with a sharper tone.

Cassandra's lips trembled. She averted her eyes from Dante to the man. His face was bruised, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He gave a strangled cry through his gag, thrashing harder as if her presence had changed his fate.

Her hands shook as Dante pushed the note across the desk. “He came along with this.”

She forced herself to pick it up. The letters blurred as she read, her breath faltering. Then her eyes locked on the initials at the bottom.

Detective A.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips. It couldn't be. Her eyes snapped at the prisoner. She murmured with uncertainty “This can't be true,”

Detective A, Aaron Adler, was her brother, but there was no way. Cassandra knew he could be reckless, obsessed, and relentless in his pursuit of exposing the Krüger family, but to plant a spy this close? To risk getting caught by acting so carelessly.

Cassandra looked at Dante, her eyes desperate. She said in his defense “There's no way Aaron sent this man”

At her words, the prisoner began thrashing more violently, but the gag muffled his frantic protests.

Dante waved his fingers. The gag was ripped away.

Spit and blood sprayed as the captive coughed, then shouted hoarsely, “I swear to God he sent me! The detective himself!”

The room went still.

The man saw the looks on their faces, they did not believe him. He looked at Cassandra with pleading eyes “Please, you gotta believe me.” He wheezed. “The detective gave me some money and a phone. I told him I wasn't gonna do it, but he tripled the price. I had no choice!”

Cassandra stared at him, horror lurking in her eyes. Trippled the price? Her heart dropped when she realized what her brother was doing.

“Hmm,” Dante hummed, shutting his eyes briefly. Cassandra gave him a side glance. Her stomach churned with the feeling that Dante knew as well.

He let the silence stretch, tension building up, before he spoke subtly. “Let him go,”

“What?!” Both his men chorused. The prisoner, even, was taken aback by Dante's order. Cassandra looked at him, his gaze was forward. Was he pardoning her brother because of her?

She thought to breathe a sigh of relief, but soon realized she and Dante were all alone now. She stood there like a lamppost, her palms sweating. Dante wasn't saying anything and she wasn't either. Yet instead of awkwardness, a different sensation lingered in the air.

Cassandra flinched when Dante rose from behind his desk. His gaze, unreadable, remained on her as he started to approach. His steps were slow, measured, like a predator who had already cornered its prey.

Cassandra's pupils shook, her throat worked but no words came out. She remained rooted to the spot as he closed the space between them.

She looked everywhere but at him, her heart pounding with dread. When he said nothing, she found her voice.

“I apologize on Aaron's behalf,” she began, her eyes fixated on the rug. Her voice shook slightly “If it makes things better, I'll tell him to stay away,”

“Mein Engel,” he called softly. His hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear. Cassandra locked eyes with him. His touch sent her heart racing, a blush creeping up her face.

He knew exactly what Aaron was doing. Cassandra's marriage to his son grants him a free pass to investigating the Nordau Bloc’s activities without getting harmed in any way.

But all that didn't matter to Dante. At least not now. He was alone with Cassandra and wanted to exploit that opportunity.

“Do you remember….the first time we met?” He asked softly, his eyes peering into hers.

She blinked. As far as she remembered, she had never formally met him. Slowly, she shook her head.

Dante’s lips curled in a faint, knowing smile. His face lowered, inch by inch, until his breath caressed her trembling lips.

Her heart threatened to burst. Every part of her screamed to back away, but something deeper, something darker, pulled her even closer.

His mouth hovered above hers, so close she could taste the warmth of him, feel the danger in his restraint.

Just then, the door opened.

“Father?”