No Turning Back

“Don’t look back.”

Dante’s voice was low, controlled, but it carried an authority that left no room for argument.

Aruna did not look back.

Her fingers were still wrapped in his hand as he led her through the narrow corridor behind the bar. The music from the main hall faded with every step, replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat pounding too loudly in her ears. Her heels clicked against the floor, uneven, rushed. She nearly stumbled, but Dante tightened his grip without slowing down.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

She laughed weakly. “You’re holding a gun. I think I’m allowed to.”

He did not respond.

They reached the back door. One of his men was already there, tall and broad, dressed in black like a shadow that had learned how to breathe.

“Car’s ready,” the man said.

Dante nodded. “Anyone following?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The door opened.

Cold night air hit Aruna’s face as she was guided outside. The city felt different back here, darker, quieter. No neon lights. No laughter. Just a black car waiting by the curb, engine running.

The door opened before she could think.

“Get in,” Dante said.

She hesitated for half a second.

Then she did.

The door closed with a solid thud that echoed louder than it should have. It felt final. Like something had just been sealed.

The car moved.

Aruna stared out the window, watching the bar disappear into the distance. A strange mix of relief and terror twisted in her chest. She had left the place she hated. But she had entered something far more dangerous.

Silence stretched between them.

She glanced at Dante from the corner of her eye. He sat beside her, relaxed, one arm resting on the seat, his gaze fixed ahead. The city lights reflected faintly in his eyes, making them look even darker.

“Where are we going?” she asked finally.

“My place,” he replied.

Her breath caught. “Your house?”

He turned to look at her. “Did you think I would take you to a hotel?”

“I didn’t think,” she admitted.

“That was smart,” he said.

The car turned sharply, accelerating onto a quieter road.

Aruna clasped her hands together, forcing herself to stay calm. Panic would not help her now. She needed to think. To understand.

“You said you weren’t buying me,” she said.

“I said I wasn’t buying your body,” Dante corrected. “There’s a difference.”

Her jaw tightened. “So what am I to you?”

He studied her for a moment. “A liability.”

That answer hurt more than she expected.

“And liabilities,” he continued, “are either eliminated or protected.”

Her stomach dropped. “Which one am I?”

“For now?” he said. “Protected.”

“For now,” she repeated quietly.

The car slowed and turned into a gated driveway. Tall iron gates slid open smoothly, revealing a large estate hidden behind trees and walls. Aruna stared, stunned.

“This is your house?” she whispered.

“One of them,” Dante replied.

The car stopped in front of a modern building bathed in soft light. Security was everywhere, subtle but unmistakable. Men stood at a distance, alert, armed.

The door opened.

“Come,” Dante said.

She stepped out.

The air smelled clean here. Expensive. Nothing like the stale smoke and sweat of the bar. Everything about this place screamed power and money. And danger.

Inside, the house was quiet. Too quiet.

Dante led her through the living area toward a staircase.

“You’ll stay here tonight,” he said.

She stopped walking. “I thought you said you weren’t touching me.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t watch you,” he replied calmly.

Her pulse spiked. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not leaving,” he said. “And you’re not sleeping alone.”

Her chest tightened. “I can’t do this.”

“You already are.”

He opened a door and gestured inside.

The room was large, elegant, and unmistakably a bedroom. Dark sheets. Soft lighting. A single window overlooking the city.

“This is yours,” he said.

She stared at him. “Yours or mine?”

“Ours,” he replied.

Her breath faltered. “No.”

Dante stepped closer, his presence filling the space. “Listen carefully, Aruna. I didn’t save you to hand you back to the wolves. If you walk out of this room tonight, my protection ends.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s a warning.”

She hugged herself. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he said. “You didn’t scream. You didn’t beg. You didn’t sell yourself when you could have.”

“That doesn’t make me special.”

“It makes you rare.”

Silence settled again.

“Go shower,” Dante said. “You look exhausted.”

She hesitated. “And if I run?”

He smiled faintly. “You won’t get far.”

She hated that he was probably right.

The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the house. Aruna locked the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, pale and shaken, eyes too bright.

What have you done?

She turned on the shower, letting the hot water wash over her skin. For a moment, she allowed herself to cry silently. Just a few tears. Not for the bar. Not even for her mother.

But for the life she had just lost.

When she returned to the bedroom wrapped in a robe, Dante was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, jacket removed, sleeves rolled up. He looked dangerous even at rest.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“I’m thinking,” she replied.

“Dangerous habit.”

She stopped a few steps away from the bed. “Are you going to tell me why you really chose me?”

He looked up at her.

“Because someone wanted you badly enough to lie about you,” he said.

Her heart skipped. “Who?”

“Your boss,” Dante replied. “And the man who offered double.”

Her blood ran cold.

“They know something,” he continued. “Something they think you’re worth killing for.”

“I’m nobody,” she said.

Dante stood.

“That,” he said quietly, “is what worries me.”

She took an instinctive step back.

He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body.

“From this moment on,” he said, “you do exactly as I say.”

“And if I don’t?”

His eyes locked onto hers.

“Then I can’t promise you’ll survive the night.”

Her throat tightened. “You said you would protect me.”

“I will,” he replied. “From everyone else.”

She searched his face, trying to find mercy, kindness, anything soft.

“What about from you?” she asked.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something dark and unreadable.

“You don’t need protection from me,” Dante said.

“You need protection because of me.”