CHAPTER 2; THE DEAD ZONE

Elena's POV

The click of the handcuffs was the only sound in the SUV, sharper even than the rain drumming against the bulletproof glass. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive leather and Dante’s cologne—a scent that used to mean safety, but now felt like a chokehold.

​Dante sat in the shadows, his profile a jagged blade against the passing streetlights. He hadn't spoken since we left my father’s estate—since he’d stood outside the nursery wing, listening to the fading echoes of a music box.

​"Drive," he commanded the driver, his voice a low growl.

​I gripped my handbag until my knuckles turned white. Tucked into the hidden lining was a burner phone. It held the only life I had left: photos of Leo, our nine-year-old son.

​"You’re quiet, Counselor," Dante said, finally turning to me. The scar through his eyebrow crinkled. "Usually, you’re throwing statutes and screaming about due process. Why so pale?"

​"I'm adjusting to being sold by my own blood," I snapped, trying to find my 'Ice Queen' mask. "Where are you taking me?"

​"To a place where your 'law' doesn't reach. You spent years trying to build a cage for me, Elena. It’s only fair I show you mine."

​"I was doing my job. You’re a criminal, Dante. You chose this."

​In a flash, he reached out. His fingers didn't wrap around my throat to hurt, but to possess. He pulled me toward him until our breath mingled. "I chose to survive. You chose to betray. You told me you were pregnant, and the next day, your father’s men were breaking my ribs while you watched from the balcony. You told me the child was 'taken care of.' You wiped us out like a stain."

​"It wasn't like that—"

​"Save the opening statement." He let go, his eyes dark and predatory. "I heard a music box tonight, Elena. In a wing of the house that’s supposed to be empty. If I find out you lied to me again..." He didn't finish the threat. He didn't have to.

​The drive felt like an eternity. We climbed into the hills, passing through massive iron gates that looked like the jaws of a beast. His mansion was a black glass fortress.

​He didn't wait for a guard. He hauled me out of the car and through the cold, silent halls to a room at the very end of a corridor. He pushed the heavy oak door open. It was beautiful—silk, velvet, and reinforced glass windows.

​"This is your cell," he said. "Step outside without me, and the guards won't hesitate to use force."

​"My office will notice I'm gone. The police—"

​"The police are on my payroll. And your father is sending your 'resignation' as we speak." He tucked a stray hair behind my ear, his touch sending a traitorous spark through me. "Sleep well. Tomorrow, your trial begins."

​The bolt slid into place. Thud. I scrambled for my bag, ripping the lining to grab the burner phone. My heart hammered against my ribs. I had to warn the nanny. I had to get Leo out before Dante went back to my father’s house to investigate that music box.

​I'm safe. Stay hidden. I love you, Leo.

​I hit 'Send.'

​No Signal.

​I stared at the screen, my breath hitching. Dante hadn't just moved me; he had put me in a total dead zone. I was trapped, and my son was a sitting duck.

​Suddenly, a small floor vent near the bed rattled. A piece of paper was pushed through the slats from the other side.

​I lunged for it. On the paper, in shaky handwriting, were four words:

​He knows. Get out.