Chapter Fifteen - Night, Knives, and the Gun

Night settled over the compound like a heavy blanket, thick and humming with distant machinery. The basement was colder than usual, the concrete walls swallowing sound.

Aria sat chained again — but she wasn’t fighting anymore.

Not physically, anyway.

When I offered to lower her cuffs so she could sleep on the cot, she gave me a look like she expected a trick.

(Because she always expects a trick. Smart girl.)

I loosened the chain length, let her reach the thin metal cot bolted to the wall, and tossed a worn pillow and blanket toward her.

“Don’t say I never give you anything,” I muttered.

She stared at the items like they were poisoned.

Then she picked up the plate of food I’d also brought… and threw it directly at my head.

I caught it midair — but barely.

“Ungrateful,” I told her.

“Kidnapper,” she snapped back.

Fair.

Eventually, I went upstairs, scrubbed off blood and grime, and lay down in my bed. My body sank into the mattress for the first time in… I don’t know how long.

I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until sleep dragged me under.

I woke to weight on my chest.

Heavy.

Warm.

Silent.

My instincts fired before conscious thought.

I grabbed.

Twisted.

Rolled.

The intruder hit the other side of my mattress with a thud, and I was on top of them in a heartbeat—

—and then I felt it.

Cold metal pressed to my throat.

At the exact same moment my gun pressed against someone’s ribs.

A standoff in the dark.

I didn’t need to see her face.

I knew the shape of that tension, that fury, that breath.

“Aria,” I growled.

She smiled — I could feel it in the darkness.

“You sleep too deeply.”

“You break out too easily.”

My eyes adjusted just enough to see her outline — hair wild, chest rising and falling, knife trembling with restraint.

The spare knife she’d swiped off the tray table.

Of course.

“How did you get out?” I demanded.

“Oh, Dante…” she breathed with mock innocence, “if I told you, you’d try to fix the mistake.”

Her knife pressed harder against my skin.

I pressed my gun harder into her ribs.

“We can do this the hard way,” I warned.

“That’s the only way you know,” she whispered back.

The mattress dipped under both our weight, sheets tangled around our legs like the world wanted us tied together.

“Let go of the gun,” she said.

“Drop the knife.”

“Simultaneously,” she countered.

I studied her silhouette.

She was waiting for the moment I blinked.

The moment I gave her even an inch.

She always wants to use my weapons against me.

“Fine,” I said.

“But I know exactly what you’ll try.”

“Oh really?” she mocked. “What’s that?”

“You’ll dive for my gun.”

Her breath hitched.

Just enough for me to feel the victory.

“And you’ll dive for my knife,” she shot back.

“I don’t need your knife,” I said quietly.

“I have you.”

The air pulsed between us — thick, electric, dangerous.

She whispered, “Ready?”

We moved.

Two weapons dropped to the floor at the same time — gun and knife clattering across hardwood.

Aria lunged exactly where I knew she would.

Toward my gun.

And I grabbed her waist mid-leap, yanking her backward.

We tumbled off the mattress together, crashing onto the floor.

My back hit the carpet; her body slammed down on top of mine.

She clawed for the ground, still trying to crawl toward the guns.

I wrapped both arms around her torso and rolled us again — away from the weapons, away from the danger she wanted, into a different kind of danger entirely.

Her wrists—

Still cuffed from earlier—

locked slightly as I twisted her around, keeping her hands trapped between our bodies.

Her breath hit my throat, hot and furious.

“I hate you,” she panted.

“No you don’t,” I murmured.

“I—”

“You wouldn’t be on top of me if you did.”

She froze.

Barely.

Just enough for me to feel her heartbeat hammer against mine.

“You are insufferable,” she whispered.

“And you,” I said, tightening my grip on her waist, “are reckless.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

Her eyes burned in the dark.

“You can’t keep me here forever,” she hissed.

I smiled against her jaw.

“Aria… I can keep you exactly where I want you.”

She growled low in her throat, twisting, trying to break free — and every movement only pressed her closer.

She was dangerous.

Infuriating.

Beautiful in her fury.

And addictive in ways that should terrify me.

But I’m far beyond fear.

“Next time you try to kill me in my sleep,” I whispered into her ear,

“try a little harder.”

She snarled, “Next time, I won’t miss.”

“Good.” My voice dropped.

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”