Watched

“You don’t leave this house without me.”

Dante said it while fastening the cuff of his watch, as if he were giving an ordinary instruction. Like telling someone not to forget their keys.

Aruna stood near the window, arms folded across her chest. The city outside looked deceptively calm. Cars moved. People lived. Somewhere out there, life went on as if nothing had changed.

For her, everything had.

“I didn’t ask to be part of your war,” she said quietly.

Dante lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Wars don’t ask for permission.”

She turned away from the window. “You’re saying my mother was killed. That someone planned it. And you expect me to just sit here and accept it?”

“I expect you to stay alive,” he replied.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters right now.”

She exhaled sharply. “You’re controlling everything.”

“Yes.”

“At least you’re honest,” she muttered.

Dante stepped closer. “You confuse control with care.”

She laughed, short and bitter. “Those two look very similar from where I’m standing.”

His jaw tightened, but he did not deny it.

“Get dressed,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

Her eyes widened. “You just said I can’t leave.”

“I said you can’t leave without me.”

“Where are we going?”

He hesitated for half a second. “To see if you’re already being watched.”

Her pulse spiked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

The drive was tense.

Aruna sat in the back seat this time, flanked by one of Dante’s men. She watched the streets carefully, her nerves stretched thin. Every passing motorcycle made her flinch. Every car that lingered too long felt suspicious.

“Am I supposed to notice something?” she asked.

“Yes,” Dante replied from the front. “Your instincts.”

“I don’t have instincts for this.”

“You survived the bar,” he said. “You do.”

The car slowed near a busy intersection. Dante’s gaze sharpened.

“Do you see the black sedan?” he asked.

Aruna scanned the road. “There are a lot of black sedans.”

“The one that’s been two cars behind us for six blocks.”

Her breath caught. “I think so.”

“That’s not thinking,” he said. “That’s noticing.”

The light turned green. The sedan followed.

Aruna’s chest tightened. “They’re following us.”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you do something?”

“I am,” Dante replied calmly.

The car turned suddenly, sharply. Aruna grabbed the seat as they veered onto a narrower street. The sedan followed again.

Her voice trembled. “Dante.”

He glanced back at her briefly. “Breathe.”

The driver accelerated. Another turn. Then another. The sedan hesitated, slowed, then continued straight.

Aruna let out a shaky breath. “They stopped.”

“For now,” Dante said.

Her hands were trembling. She pressed them together, trying to steady herself. “So what happens now?”

“Now,” he replied, “we confirm what they already know.”

The car pulled into an underground garage. Dante stepped out first, scanning the area before opening her door.

“Stay close,” he said.

She nodded.

Inside the building, the air was cold and sterile. Dante led her to an elevator and pressed a button. She noticed there were no labels on the panel. Just numbers.

“This isn’t a hospital,” she said.

“No,” Dante replied. “It’s where questions get answered.”

That did not help.

They entered a room that looked like an office, but felt like an interrogation chamber. A man sat behind the desk, older, sharp-eyed, calm in a way that suggested experience.

“Dante,” the man greeted. “You’re late.”

“I brought her,” Dante replied.

The man’s gaze shifted to Aruna. He studied her carefully, too carefully.

“This is the girl,” he said.

Aruna stiffened. “Girl?”

“She doesn’t know,” Dante said flatly.

The man raised a brow. “Of course she doesn’t.”

“Know what?” Aruna demanded.

The man leaned back. “Your mother didn’t die because she was sick,” he said. “She died because she knew something she shouldn’t.”

The room spun.

“What could my mother possibly know?” Aruna asked. “She was a seamstress. She barely left the house.”

“That’s what made her useful,” the man replied. “Invisible people hear things.”

Aruna’s throat tightened. “You’re lying.”

Dante placed a hand on her shoulder. Not tight. Not gentle. Steady.

“He’s not,” Dante said.

The man slid a folder across the desk.

“Your mother worked nights,” he continued. “She cleaned offices in a private hospital wing. One owned by a shell company.”

Aruna stared at the folder but did not open it.

“That shell company,” the man added, “belongs to the same people who followed you today.”

Silence crashed down on her.

“My mother didn’t deserve this,” Aruna whispered.

“No one ever does,” Dante replied.

Her eyes burned. “And me? Why am I involved now?”

“Because they don’t know what she told you,” the man said.

She laughed weakly. “She never told me anything.”

“Are you sure?” Dante asked quietly.

Aruna searched her memory. Late nights. Whispered phone calls. Her mother insisting she memorize phone numbers instead of saving them.

Her stomach dropped.

“She used to say,” Aruna murmured, “‘If anything happens to me, trust no one.’”

Dante’s gaze sharpened. “Did she say who?”

Aruna shook her head. “No.”

The man sighed. “Then you’re still useful to them.”

“Useful?” Aruna snapped. “You mean disposable.”

The man did not correct her.

They left the building in silence.

Back in the car, Aruna finally broke.

“You knew,” she said to Dante. “You knew before tonight.”

“I suspected,” he replied.

“And you still let me walk into your world.”

“You were already in it,” Dante said. “You just didn’t know.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I hate you,” she added, her voice breaking.

Dante turned to face her fully. “Say it if you need to.”

“I don’t want your protection,” she said. “I want my life back.”

He held her gaze, unflinching. “That life is gone.”

The car stopped at the estate.

Inside, Aruna paced the room like a caged animal. Dante watched her quietly.

“You don’t even pretend this is temporary,” she said.

“Because it isn’t.”

She stopped in front of him. “What do you want from me, Dante?”

He answered without hesitation. “Your trust.”

She laughed. “After everything you’ve told me?”

“Yes.”

“And if I give it to you?”

His eyes darkened. “Then I will burn anyone who tries to touch you.”

Her breath caught.

“That includes using you,” he continued. “Selling you. Watching you.”

“And if I don’t trust you?”

“Then you become a weakness,” he said. “And weaknesses don’t survive long.”

A knock sounded at the door.

Dante’s head snapped up. His men’s voices murmured outside. The door opened.

“We found something,” one of them said. “A message.”

Dante turned. “From who?”

The man glanced at Aruna.

“It’s addressed to her.”

Aruna’s heart slammed in her chest.

Dante took the envelope and handed it to her slowly.

Her hands shook as she opened it.

Inside was a single line, written neatly.

You should have died with your mother.

She looked up, breathless.

Dante’s voice was low, lethal.

“They’ve made their move,” he said.

“And now, so will I.”