Desperate Escape Attempt

Chapter 25: Desperate Escape Attempt

Isla sat by the window, her heart pounding as she watched the guards patrol the mansion grounds. It had been weeks since Dante had locked her in his world, controlling every aspect of her life. She couldn't let this continue. She had to escape.

Her fingers clenched into fists.

She wasn't weak. She wasn't just going to sit here and let him win.

She had spent years training for missions harder than this—getting out of one man's house should have been easy. But Dante had been meticulous. Guards were stationed at every exit. The doors were all locked. Even her wardrobe had been changed—her usual sleek attire replaced with delicate silk dresses that made her feel like a caged doll.

But tonight, she would get out.

Taking a slow breath, she moved to the closet, reaching for the thin rope she had tied together from her bedsheets. It wasn't much, but it was enough to at least get her down the balcony.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she tied the knot securely around the post. She couldn't afford to fail. Not when she was so close.

She peered out the window again. The guards were still making their rounds. If she timed it right, she had exactly forty-five seconds between shifts to climb down and make it to the hedge wall that surrounded the property.

She took one last breath.

Then she swung her legs over the balcony and started her descent.

The silk sheet cut into her hands as she lowered herself, the night air cool against her skin. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to hurry, but she knew any sudden movement could draw attention.

Just a few more feet.

Almost there.

Her foot touched the ground.

Relief flooded her.

Then—

A shadow moved behind her.

Her breath hitched.

No.

She spun around just as a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her hard against a familiar, unyielding chest.

"Going somewhere, dolcezza?"

Dante's voice was dangerously low, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her body stiffened as she felt the heat of him, the scent of leather and whiskey clinging to his skin. His grip was ironclad, his strength effortlessly overpowering hers.

Isla forced herself to remain calm. "Let me go."

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You know I can't do that."

She struggled, twisting in his grasp, but it was useless.

"Foolish," Dante murmured, pressing her back against the stone wall. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Her breathing was uneven as she glared up at him. "You can't keep me here forever."

Dante's eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "I can. And I will."

She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to his nearness. "You don't own me."

His hand came up, gripping her jaw, tilting her face so she couldn't look away. "No?" His thumb traced her bottom lip, his gaze dropping to her mouth. "Then why do you look at me like you want to be mine?"

Her stomach twisted.

She hated how he got to her. How his touch burned her even as she fought against him.

"You're delusional," she snapped.

Dante smirked. "Am I?"

Before she could answer, he leaned in, his mouth grazing her jaw.

A warning.

A punishment.

His lips brushed her pulse, his breath hot against her skin. "You belong to me, Isla. And I will make sure you never forget that."

She shoved at his chest, trying to create space between them, but he didn't budge.

He was too close.

Too intoxicating.

Too dangerous.

"Let me go," she repeated, her voice weaker this time.

Dante exhaled sharply, his grip loosening just enough for her to move.

But he wasn't letting her go.

Not even close.

Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms.

"Dante—!"

He ignored her, carrying her effortlessly through the gardens, past the guards, straight back into the mansion.

Isla thrashed against him, but it was useless. He didn't even flinch.

"Damn it, put me down!"

"Quiet," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She clenched her teeth, seething in silence as he carried her up the grand staircase and toward his wing of the house.

Not her room.

His.

Panic flared in her chest.

"Dante, don't—"

Too late.

The door swung open, and he stepped inside, kicking it shut behind him.

The large, dark bedroom was nothing like hers. It was imposing. Dominating. Just like him.

And worst of all—there was only one bed.

He finally set her down, but before she could bolt, his hands gripped her wrists, pulling her against him.

"You think you can run from me?" His voice was dangerously soft, his lips a breath away from hers. "You think I'll let you go?"

Her pulse thundered. "You have to."

Dante smirked. "No, bella. I really don't."

She gasped as he spun her, pressing her face-first against the door, his body flush against hers.

Trapped.

Completely and utterly trapped.

His hand slid down her arm, fingers locking around her wrist as he brought it behind her back. His other hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her in place.

"You're mine," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you."

Isla clenched her jaw. "I'll never accept it."

Dante chuckled darkly. "We'll see about that."

With that, he released her, stepping back as if he hadn't just stolen the air from her lungs.

She turned slowly, heart pounding.

Dante stood there, watching her, his dark eyes unreadable.

Then, without another word, he walked to the door, locking it behind him.

"Sleep, dolcezza," he said smoothly. "You'll need your strength."

And then he was gone.

Leaving Isla alone.

Breathless.

And knowing that no matter how hard she tried—

She wasn't getting away.