Chapter 7. This was different.

Camila’s POV

We finally reached Dante’s mansion.

“Are your parents home?” I asked, pressing a cloth to my mouth as blood continued to seep from the cut.

“No.” He paused, then muttered, “Thankfully.”

I heard the relief in his voice.

Dante’s mother had been kind to me, but his father was another story. Vittorio had threatened to send me to the cellar over a simple question. Still, I couldn’t understand why Dante hated both of them so much.

“Sit there.”

He pointed toward the kitchen counter. I climbed onto the edge and waited while he disappeared down the hallway.

A few minutes later, he returned with a first-aid kit, antiseptic, clean cloths, and a needle.

My stomach twisted.

“You know how to use that?”

“I can stitch a wound.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“I learned when I was ten.” He threaded the needle with practiced hands. “My mother thought it would be useful someday.”

“Is there anything to numb the pain?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, almost forming a smile.

“No.”

My eyes widened. “No?”

“You might pass out.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

His expression remained serious, but the hard line of his mouth softened slightly. It was the closest thing to amusement I had seen from him.

He soaked the needle in antiseptic and examined the cut.

“Oh, God,” I whispered. “I don’t want to die. There are still so many things I haven’t done.”

His eyes flickered toward mine.

I instantly regretted saying it. I expected him to ask what I meant, but he only lowered his gaze back to my lip.

“You’re not going to die.”

The quiet certainty in his voice made my chest tighten.

“Hold on to my shoulder if you need something to grip.”

I placed my hand on him and tried to prepare myself.

“Don’t bite me.”

I looked at him.

“If you bite my fingers, I’m leaving you to heal on your own.”

“You’re very comforting.”

“I try.”

I shut my eyes.

“Ready?”

“No.”

He began anyway.

Pain shot through my mouth. My fingers dug into his shoulder as I fought to stay still. Dante moved carefully, pausing every few seconds to make sure I wasn’t pulling away.

The entire process took only one stitch, but it felt much longer.

When he finished, a tear slipped down my cheek.

Dante stared at the tear as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Then he picked up a clean cloth and gently wiped it away.

His dark blue eyes met mine. There was something unfamiliar in them. Curiosity, perhaps. Maybe concern.

I was exhausted from the fight, the pain, and the fear that had been following me since I left my father’s house. Without thinking, I leaned forward and rested my head against Dante’s shoulder.

He went completely still.

He didn’t hold me, but he didn’t push me away either. After a moment, his arm lifted awkwardly and settled against my back.

I raised my head and studied him.

“Have you ever been hugged before?”

His eyes hardened. “No.”

The answer came too quickly.

I blinked. “Not even once?”

“I didn’t need one.”

He said it as though that explained everything.

“I could take care of myself.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It wasn’t.”

His voice was flat, but something beneath it wasn’t. I glanced down at the clean shirt he had changed into after the blood stained the first one.

“Why has no one ever hugged you?”

“My family isn’t affectionate.”

He stood and carried his ruined shirt to the washing machine. The casual way he dismissed it only made the answer sadder.

“Well, that changes today.”

He turned toward me. “No.”

“You’re getting a hug.”

“I said no.”

“You’re acting like a scared child.”

His stare sharpened. “Don’t test me.”

I rolled my eyes.

His eyebrows drew together. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“No,” I mumbled sarcastically.

“Stop fidgeting with your hands.”

Before I could answer, he caught both of them in his.

A shiver traveled up my arms.

His hands were freezing.

“You’re cold,” I whispered.

“So are you.”

He released me, and the sudden loss of his touch left an uncomfortable emptiness behind. I wanted him to hold my hands again, even though the tension between us had made it difficult to breathe.

The doorbell rang repeatedly.

Dante’s expression changed at once.

The softness disappeared from his face, replaced by the cold, guarded look everyone else knew. He turned toward the entrance while muffled voices echoed from the hallway.

“No,” he said sharply. “You can’t come in.”

A man’s laughter answered him.

I remained on the counter, unsure whether I was supposed to hide or stay where I was.

A head appeared around the corner.

“Damn,” the stranger said when he saw me. “You didn’t tell me you had someone this beautiful here.”

“Get out,” Dante growled.

“That’s not how you greet your best friend.”

The man stepped into the kitchen.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome in a careless sort of way. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and his brown eyes held a mischievous light. His skin was paler than Dante’s, and a sharp jawline gave him a dangerous charm.

He looked at me with open curiosity.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” I asked back.

His lips curved. “Luca.”

He extended his hand.

“I’m Cam…”

I didn’t get to finish.

Dante grabbed Luca by the front of his shirt and threw him into the adjoining room. Luca let out a surprised laugh before Dante slammed the door shut.

I stared at the closed door.

Dante turned toward me, his jaw clenched.

“Go upstairs.”

I slid off the counter. “What?”

“Now.”

His tone left no room for an argument.

I nodded and started toward the stairs.

“Don’t come back down,” he added. “I’ll take you to see your brothers later. I’ll come get you when it’s time.”

The warning in his voice made me glance over my shoulder.

He didn’t want me near Luca.

I hurried upstairs without asking why.

Behind me, I heard the door open again and Luca’s amused voice drift through the house.

Dante answered him in a low, threatening tone.

I reached my room and closed the door, but the voices downstairs continued to echo in my mind.

Dante had been angry before.

This was different.

Whatever Luca had come to tell him, Dante clearly didn’t want me to hear it.