The cold night air hit my face like a slap, but it wasn't enough to wake me from the nightmare.
Dante didn't speak as he led me toward a sleek, black SUV idling at the curb.
He didn't look back to see if I was following.
He didn't have to.
The grip he had on my wrist was a silent command, and the two massive men flanking the car made it clear that running was an orphancy I couldn't afford.
He opened the back door and motioned for me to get in.
I hesitated, looking at the dark leather interior.
It looked like a coffin.
"In," he said.
One word.
That was all it took for my knees to buckle and obey.
I slid into the seat, pressing myself as far against the door as possible. A moment later, the seat dipped as he climbed in beside me.
The door closed with a heavy thud, sealing us in silence.
The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the building—and my old life—behind.
I watched my uncle through the tinted glass, standing on the sidewalk and clutching a briefcase.
He didn't even wave.
He was already counting the money.
"Stop looking at him," Dante's voice cut through the dark.
"He's not your concern anymore."
"He's my family," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"He's the man who put a price tag on your head."
Dante shifted, and even though he wasn't touching me, his presence felt like a weight on my chest.
"In my world, family doesn't sell their own.
He's nothing to you now."
I turned my head to look at him.
The streetlights flickered past, illuminating his profile in sharp, rhythmic flashes.
He looked like a statue—perfect and unmoving.
"And what am I to you?" I asked, my courage flickering.
"A tax write-off? A trophy?"
Dante turned his head slowly.
His dark eyes settled on mine, and for the first time, I saw a spark of something that wasn't just cold calculation.
It was hunger, buried deep beneath layers of steel.
"You're a debt that's been paid," he said softly.
"Then let me go.
If the debt is paid, I should be free."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"You think three million dollars buys freedom?"
He leaned closer.
"No, little bird.
Three million dollars buys possession."
He reached out.
I flinched, but he didn't stop.
His thumb brushed against the pulse point on my neck, right where my heart was hammering against my skin.
"You're shaking," he noted.
"I'm terrified of you."
"Good," he murmured, leaning closer until I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"Fear will keep you alive."
Then, softer:
"But remember this—the men in that room would have used you until there was nothing left.
I don't intend to break you."
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine that I hated myself for feeling.
"I intend to keep you."
The car took a sharp turn, entering a private estate guarded by iron gates and men with guns.
As the massive house came into view—a fortress of glass and stone—I realized I wasn't being taken to a home.
I was being taken to a kingdom.
And the King was sitting right next to me.