Chapter Eight- Control

“Just say the words.”

I couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t remember where my body ended and his questions began.

Everything in me tightened, pulled taut, stretched too thin—

And something inside me finally snapped.

“I don’t know where my father is!”

The confession tore out of me, ripped from a part of myself I hadn’t meant to expose.

Dante went still.

I gasped for air, chest heaving, my voice cracking as the words spilled out faster, desperate, uncontrollable.

“I don’t know exactly where he went—I swear—I swear on my life—if I knew, I would tell you—just—just let me—”

He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing mine.

“I don’t believe you,” he growled.

A sob clawed up my throat.

Not from fear.

From the truth finally tearing free.

“I’m not lying!” I cried, shaking my head frantically. “I don’t know—I woke up, and everyone was gone—my whole family—everyone—!”

My voice trembled. My legs shook. My restraints bit into my wrists.

“It was just me and my brothers,” I forced out. “Only them. They told me… they told me our parents had to leave suddenly. An emergency. Something about business, but they wouldn’t—”

My breath hitched violently.

“They wouldn’t tell me where.”

Dante’s eyes stayed locked on mine, searching, dissecting, stripping me down to bone and truth.

I swallowed hard, my voice dropping to a rasp.

“But my brothers might know where he is,” I said, voice trembling. “If anyone does, it’s them.”

His gaze narrowed. “Explain.”

I swallowed hard, the memory of that night flickering behind my eyes like a broken film reel.

“They didn’t tell me anything,” I said softly. “Just that our parents had to leave immediately. That it was a business emergency.”

I lifted my eyes to his, pulse hammering.

“If it was business, then my mother is probably in New York by now. At the penthouse. That’s where she always goes when something major happens. And my father…”

My breath hitched.

“He goes wherever he needs to be. He never stays in one place long when deals get complicated.”

A bitter laugh slipped out of me—small, shaky.

“This isn’t new. He’s left before. He always puts my brothers in charge when he’s gone for extended periods. That’s… that’s how it’s always been.”

My voice cracked around the edges.

“He tells them the details. Not me.”

Dante stared at me for a long, suffocating moment.

Every muscle in my body held still, bracing for him to call me a liar again.

Instead, he exhaled slowly.

“…I believe you.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.

“You—” My voice cracked. “You do?”

His jaw worked, the flicker of reluctant acknowledgment crossing his features. “Yes. This time, I do.”

Relief shot through me—relief so sharp it was almost painful. My entire body loosened involuntarily, trembling with the shock of it.

But then he straightened, turned slightly toward the door.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, breathless. “Where are you going?”

He gave me a lazy, infuriating glance over his shoulder. “To follow this lead.”

A rush of panic flared.

And something else.

Something unbearably hot and desperate.

“You said—” I swallowed hard. “I told you the truth.”

“Yes,” he agreed simply.

“You… you said I’d get something if I told you.”

“That’s correct,” he said, tone annoyingly calm. “If you told me the truth.”

“I DID!”

He lifted a brow. “On the third try.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “What?”

“You made me ask you three times, Aria.” He stepped fully away from me now, the chains rattling as I involuntarily strained toward him. “You wasted my time. You lied first. Then hesitated. Then lied again.”

“That’s— that’s not fair,” I snapped, heat flooding my cheeks. “I told you everything!”

“Eventually.”

His voice was velvet-wrapped steel.

Unmoving.

Unyielding.

“And because you made me work for it…” His eyes roamed me slowly, deliberately. “You don’t get rewarded.”

Humiliation punched the air from my lungs.

I felt it everywhere—sharp and low and unbearable.

“You promised,” I whispered, hating how fragile it sounded.

“No,” he corrected, stepping toward the door, “I offered. Conditionally. And you failed the conditions.”

My fingers curled helplessly against the restraints.

“Dante,” I breathed, furious and aching.

He paused at the top of the stairs, looking down at me like a king surveying something he owned.

“You want relief,” he said quietly, “but all you’ve earned is frustration.”

My breath hitched—anger, humiliation, and something dangerously close to need tangling inside me.

He smiled—slow, dark, knowing.

“If you want a reward next time…”

His voice dropped to a growl.

“…don’t make me ask three times.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Leaving me shaking.

Humiliated.

And absolutely furious at how much power he had over my body with nothing more than words.