Chapter 9

My ankle had healed enough by the third day. Still tender when I put weight on it, but functional.

Volkov cleared me to move through the mansion again.

That afternoon, Father summoned him to the study. Business. Something about security protocols for an upcoming meeting.

"Stay in the sitting room," Volkov told me before he left. "Don't move until I return."

I nodded.

He disappeared down the hallway, and I was alone.

I settled onto the sofa in the sitting room, the same one where he'd tended my ankle. The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor.

The silence was thick. Oppressive.

I picked up a book from the side table. Something in Italian that I'd read three times already. I opened it, trying to focus on the words, but they blurred together.

Three weeks until the wedding.

The thought made my chest tighten.

I heard footsteps.

Not Volkov's measured, controlled stride.

These were different. Casual. Confident.

I looked up.

Dante stood in the doorway.

My entire body went cold.

He smiled. That slow, predatory smile that made my skin crawl.

"All alone, principessa?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't.

He stepped into the room, hands in his pockets, moving with deliberate ease.

"Where's your shadow?" He glanced around. "Ah. With the Don, I assume."

I gripped the book tighter.

Dante crossed the room, not rushing, taking his time. He stopped beside the sofa, too close, looming over me.

"You know, I've been watching you." His voice was soft. Conversational. "The way you walk. The way you never speak. So obedient."

My hands trembled.

"Moretti is going to love you." He crouched down beside the sofa, bringing his face level with mine. "He has specific tastes. Likes his women quiet. Compliant."

I couldn't breathe.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

I flinched.

"Don't be scared, principessa." His smile widened. "I'm just preparing you. Moretti won't be gentle. He enjoys the fear. Feeds on it."

Bile rose in my throat.

"He'll take his time with you. Every night. And you'll have to smile through it, won't you? Because that's what good daughters do."

My vision blurred. The room tilted.

Dante leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear.

"And when you cry, when you beg him to stop, he'll only get rougher. He'll break you, piece by piece, until there's nothing left."

A sob caught in my throat.

His hand slid to my shoulder, gripping it.

"But maybe I could give you a preview. Show you what to expect so you're not so surprised on your wedding night."

Panic exploded through me. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

"Dante."

The voice cut through the room like a blade.

Dante's hand froze.

I looked up.

Volkov stood in the doorway.

He didn't move. Didn't rush forward. Just stood there, utterly still.

But the air in the room changed.

The temperature dropped.

Dante straightened slowly, releasing my shoulder. "Just having a conversation."

Volkov's eyes locked on him. Cold. Empty.

"Step away from her."

It wasn't a command shouted in anger. It was quiet. Controlled. But there was something underneath it that made my blood run cold.

Authority. Absolute. Unquestionable.

Dante hesitated, then took a step back.

"I said she was alone. Thought someone should keep her company."

Volkov moved into the room. Each step deliberate. Measured.

He stopped between Dante and me.

"Your presence violates protocol." His voice was low, steady. "You're unauthorized to be within three feet of her without supervision."

Dante's jaw tightened. "I don't answer to you."

"You do now." Volkov's gaze didn't waver. "The Don assigned me to protect her. That includes protecting her from internal threats."

The words hung in the air.

Internal threats.

Dante's face flushed with rage. "You're calling me a threat?"

"I'm stating fact." Volkov took one step closer to Dante. "Your behavior is disruptive. Your intentions are clear. If you touch her again, I will remove you."

"You can't—"

"I can." Volkov's voice dropped lower, colder. "The Don gave me full authority over her security. That authority supersedes your position. Test me, and you'll find out exactly how far that authority extends."

Dante stared at him, fists clenched.

For a long moment, neither man moved.

Then Dante smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Moretti will hear about this. He'll want to know his bride's bodyguard is overstepping."

"Tell him." Volkov didn't blink. "Tell him I'm doing my job."

Dante's smile vanished.

He turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

The moment he was gone, Volkov turned to me.

I was shaking. Trembling so hard I couldn't hold the book anymore. It slipped from my hands and fell to the floor.

Volkov's eyes scanned me, assessing.

"Did he touch you anywhere else?"

I shook my head.

"Stand up."

I tried. My legs wouldn't support me.

Volkov reached down and gripped my wrist, pulling me to my feet.

The grip was hard. Too hard.

I gasped.

He held my wrist firmly, his fingers pressing into the delicate bones.

"You don't freeze when someone approaches you." His voice was cold, clinical. "You move. You call for me. You don't sit there and let it happen."

The pressure on my wrist increased.

Tears burned behind my eyes.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded frantically.

He held my gaze for another second, then released me.

I pulled my hand to my chest, rubbing the ache.

"Return to your room," he said. "Don't leave it unless I'm with you."

I didn't wait. I hurried out of the sitting room, my wrist throbbing, Dante's words echoing in my head.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

I couldn't stop shaking.

Dante's voice played over and over in my mind.

He'll break you, piece by piece.

A sob tore from my throat.

I pressed my face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound.

But the tears came anyway. Hot. Relentless.

I cried until my chest ached, until I couldn't breathe.

Three weeks.

Three weeks until I was married to a monster.

Three weeks until everything Dante said would come true.

I curled into a ball, clutching the blanket, sobbing into the darkness.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under.

I woke suddenly.

The room was dark. Silent.

But something was wrong.

My eyes opened, staring at the ceiling. I didn't move. Didn't know why I'd woken.

Then I felt it.

The air was different. Heavier.

Like the room was holding its breath.

My heart started to pound.

I lay completely still, listening.

And then I heard it.

Breathing.

Slow. Steady. Controlled.

Not mine.

Someone else.

Terror flooded through me, cold and sharp.

Someone was in my room.

I couldn't move. My body was frozen, paralyzed by fear.

The breathing continued. Calm. Patient.

Watching.

My eyes moved, slowly, terrified of what I would see.

I turned my head toward the window.

A figure sat in the chair.

My breath stopped.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Sitting relaxed, one leg crossed over the other.

Masked.

The black mask. Featureless except for the eye holes.

The same one from the library.

He wasn't moving. Just sitting there in the darkness, hands resting on the armrests.

Watching me.

My entire body locked up. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. Couldn't move.

My eyes went wide, frozen on him.

How long had he been sitting there?

How long had he been watching me sleep?

The silence stretched, suffocating.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me.

Then he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Hello, princess."