CHAPTER FIVE

Alina didn't sleep that night.

Dante's words echoed in her head, relentless and unshakable. When you're ready, I'll be waiting.

She wasn't ready—not for him, not for whatever tangled web of danger and desire awaited her. But the walls around her felt tighter every day, her father's control suffocating her more with each breath. And now, knowing Viktor was willing to trade her freedom for his own survival, she felt like a prisoner on borrowed time.

By morning, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. She moved through the house silently, avoiding her father, avoiding her own thoughts. She needed clarity, but the more she searched for it, the more she found Dante's dark gaze haunting her every step.

"Alina," Anton's gruff voice called from the hallway, pulling her from her thoughts. "Your father wants you in his office."

Her stomach churned. "Now?"

He nodded, offering no further explanation.

The walk to Viktor's office felt like a march toward her own execution. She found him behind his mahogany desk, swirling a glass of whiskey though it was barely noon.

"You took something from my office last night," he said, his tone calm but sharp as a blade.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. "I didn't take anything."

His cold smile didn't reach his eyes. "But you saw something."

Alina swallowed hard. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice cracked with anger. "You were going to sell me off like one of your goddamn shipments."

Viktor leaned back in his chair. "Don't be dramatic. It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?" she hissed.

He sighed. "You don't understand this world, Alina. Deals have to be made. Sacrifices—"

"I'm the sacrifice," she interrupted, her voice shaking. "To him."

"Dante can protect you," Viktor replied bluntly. "Better than I can right now."

Alina stared at him in disbelief. "So that's it? You'd hand me over to save your own skin?"

His eyes hardened. "I'm trying to save your life."

She shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes. "No. You're trying to save yourself."

Without another word, she stormed out, ignoring Viktor's shouts behind her.

---

Hours later, Alina found herself wandering through the city, her feet carrying her aimlessly. She couldn't go home. Not yet. Every memory of that house felt tainted now.

She turned a corner and froze.

Dante was there, leaning against his black car, watching her with that infuriatingly calm expression.

"Are you following me?" she demanded.

"I told you I'd be waiting," he replied smoothly. "You just got here faster than I thought."

Alina rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. "What do you even want from me?"

Dante's smile faded. "The truth? I don't know."

His honesty caught her off guard.

"I've lived my whole life in the dark," he continued softly. "But then there's you… and you're the only thing I've seen in years that feels real."

Alina's breath faltered. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make me believe you," she whispered. "Because if I do… I'll fall."

Dante stepped closer, his voice low and steady. "Then fall, Alina."

Before she could protest, his lips were on hers—soft but demanding, dangerous but tender. It wasn't a kiss meant to steal or conquer. It was a promise. A warning.

When they finally broke apart, Alina's world felt unsteady.

"Come with me," Dante whispered against her lips.

And this time, Alina didn't say no.