Chapter 8

Melanie

My mouth hung open. I mean, really open. And not because I was shocked but because I was doing everything in my power not to let my eyes drop to those damn grey sweatpants.

I blinked hard and snapped myself out of it. “Your ugly personality makes you very irresistible,” I said, lifting my chin. “So congrats. You’re safe from me.”

He leaned in, closer than my comfort zone allowed, and I instantly caught the stench of alcohol on his breath. Expensive wine, probably. Because of course he gets drunk in luxury.

“Are you talking about my charming character?” he slurred with that cocky smile glued to his face.

“You mean your delusional ego? Yeah, very charming,” I said, sidestepping him.

I wasn’t in the mood for drunk Dante. Or sober Dante. Or any version of Dante that had vocal cords. I took a step to pass him, but his hand caught my wrist before I could move any farther.

“You don’t leave until I say so.”

His grip was hot like skin-burning hot. Not from temperature, just from pure irritation.

“Let go of me,” I said through clenched teeth.

“You’re not the boss of me!” I yanked my arm, but he only shook his head like I was the problem.

“As long as you live here, you answer to me.”

“I thought you didn’t want me here,” I snapped. “Or did your father pulling a gun to your head finally shut you up?”

That’s when everything changed. His face hardened. Like... scary hard. Before I could react, his hand moved from my arm to my throat, and then I was suddenly pinned against the cold hallway wall.

His hand pressed firm against my neck. Not choking, not yet—but the pressure made it hard to speak. Or think.

“I fear no one,” he growled, eyes locked onto mine. “Not my father. Not anyone. Do you get that?”

I couldn’t answer. I just stared at him, stunned. His grip tightened for a second. A second too long. Then he suddenly let go.

I dropped forward, coughing and gasping for air like I had just escaped a demon’s lair.

Dante leaned closer, crouching slightly as if he was proud of how messed up I looked.

“If you don’t want to end up dead... find a way to leave. You and your mother.”His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.

And just like that, he turned and walked away like this was a normal Tuesday night.

I stood there, breathing hard, my hands still trembling. The look in his eyes hadn’t been empty it was full of warning. During that moment, I truly believed he could hurt someone. Maybe even enjoy it.

I didn’t know what to do. Cry? Scream? Call my therapist?

Instead, I ran outside.

The cold night hit my face like a slap. I didn’t care. I needed something, anything, to make me feel in control. That’s when I saw it. Dante’s power bike.

It was sitting in the driveway like a sleek, sexy beast.

I walked over to it slowly, heart still pounding from fear and adrenaline. Before my brain could talk me out of it, I hopped on it.

The keys were already in. Of course they were. Because Dante lives recklessly.

I twisted the throttle. The engine roared like a dragon waking up, and for the first time all night... I felt alive.

I had no helmet. No clue where I was going. But right now, that didn't matter. What mattered was getting the hell away from this house. From Dante. From the feeling that I was one breath away from breaking.

The tires spun on the gravel and I took off, gripping the handlebars like they were my lifeline.

As I sped off into the night, one thought echoed in my mind.

I might crash this thing… but at least I’ll crash it on my terms.

I kept driving.

The wind continued to hit my face, but I didn’t stop. Every twist of the throttle helped me forget what just happened. Forget Dante's voice whispering death threats like it was a lullaby.

Suddenly,I felt this kind of feeling you feel when someone’s watching you. Or following you.

I glanced behind me and I realized I wasn’t imagining it. There was someone behind me and he happened to be following me.

“Seriously?” I muttered. “Did the brooding mafia prince send a damn tail on me?”

I pushed the bike harder, trying to shake whoever it was. The engine roared louder and I took a sharp turn, that led me down a different part of Città dei re.

It was the part the lowlifes lived. The part where Miguel lived.

I hadn’t been here since—God, how long? Years. It still looked the same. Like time forgot about this place.

I slowed the bike, heart beat suddenly too loud. My stomach did a weird backflip when I realized how close I was to Gustavo’s house.

Just one look, I told myself. Then I’ll leave.

I pulled up across from the house. The porch light was flickering like it was trying to die. Some things never change.

I killed the engine and got off the bike. My boots crunched on the gravel as I walked closer. Memories started consuming my brain.

I was back to remembering moments were Miguel and I are on this very same porch, sneaking beers. Laughing. Crying. Making promises we were too young to keep.

I shook those thoughts off then climbed the steps, planning to just peek through the window. Maybe even spit on the porch for old times’ sake.

But the second my foot hit that last step the door flung open and Gustavo stood in front of me.

He looked older, but still carried that same nasty snarl like it was tattooed on his face. His frame filled the doorway. The porch light flickered again, casting shadows across his features.

“You little demon,” he spat.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. In one quick motion, he grabbed me by the arm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled. His breath reeked of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. Same old Gustavo.

“Gustavo, please..Let go of me!” I shouted, yanking my arm, as he dragged me closer to him.

“What, you think you can just show up here after killing my brother?”

“Gustavo…I…”

“Shut it! Stronza.” He cut me off. “You are not leaving here until you die the same way my brother did.”