A Truth Worth Chasing

Liliana's pulse hammers, but she refuses to let fear take control. She's done running. Done being hunted.

She types back swiftly:

"What do you want from me?"

The message sends. She stands there, gripping her phone tightly, eyes still locked on the figure below.

A moment later, her phone buzzes again.

Unknown Number:

"Isn't it obvious? I want you."

A chill runs down her spine, but before she can type a reply, another message appears.

"Not like Adrian did. Not like Valenti would. They wanted to own you. I want to unravel you."

Her breath catches. Who the hell is this man?

Down on the street, he starts moving. Walking away—slowly, deliberately—as if he already knows she'll come looking for him.

Her phone buzzes again.

"If you want answers, follow me. If not… well, we'll meet again soon. Either way, you won't forget me."

Her heart is a battlefield between fear and curiosity. Her fingers fly over the screen.

"Who are you?"

The message sends. Liliana watches the mysterious man from her window as he continues his slow, deliberate walk down the sidewalk.

Her phone vibrates.

Unknown Number:

"Someone who's been watching. Someone who understands you better than they did. Someone who doesn't just want you—I want to see what's beneath the surface."

A pause. Then another message.

"You're not afraid, are you?"

Her pulse spikes. Afraid? No. But intrigued? More than she should be.

Her hands tighten around her phone. This man is dangerous. But he's different. He's not Adrian, filled with possessive rage. He's not Lorenzo, arrogant and hungry for power.

This man is calculated. Patient. A predator who already knows his prey.

Her phone vibrates again.

"Keep playing it safe, and you'll never know the truth. Step outside… and I'll show you exactly who I am."

She glances at the door. The night is calling. The mystery is pulling her in. Enough games.

Liliana grabs her coat, slips her phone into her bag, and steps into the hallway. The air is thick with the weight of what she's about to do, but hesitation is a luxury she doesn't have. She wants answers. And she's going to get them.

Descending the stairs quickly, she pushes open the building's door. The night air is crisp, wrapping around her like an omen. The city hums around her—cars passing, distant chatter—but her focus is locked on him.

He's already a block ahead. Walking slowly. Waiting.

She takes a breath and starts moving.

Her heels click against the pavement as she closes the distance between them. He doesn't turn around, doesn't check if she's following. He already knows she is.

Her phone vibrates.

Unknown Number:

"Good girl."

A shiver runs down her spine—not just from the words, but from the certainty in them.

Liliana speeds up, closing the gap until she's just a few steps behind him. Close enough to see the way his broad shoulders shift under his dark coat. Close enough to smell the faint, intoxicating mix of spice and smoke.

Then—he stops.

Without turning, he speaks. His voice is deep, smooth, dangerous.

"I was wondering when you'd stop running."

Liliana swallows, steadying herself. "Who are you?" she demands.

Finally, he turns.

The streetlamp casts sharp shadows across his face. Chiseled jaw. Piercing eyes. Lips that look like they were made for sin.

A stranger. Yet… somehow, familiar.

He tilts his head slightly, watching her the way a predator watches prey.

"Names have power, sweetheart. But since you asked so nicely…"

He steps closer, so close Liliana can feel the heat of his body.

"Call me Dante."

Liliana takes a step back, her pulse hammering in her ears. Dante. The name rolls off his tongue like silk, but it means nothing to her.

Her eyes narrow as she holds her ground. "I don't know you." Her voice is steady, but there's an edge to it—a warning.

Dante smirks, his eyes glinting under the streetlamp. "Not yet."

That effortless confidence, the way he watches her like he already knows what she's thinking—it should unsettle her. And yet… there's something about him. Something that feels dangerous in a way that pulls her in rather than pushes her away.

"You followed me," he continues, stepping closer. "That tells me something, sweetheart. You're curious."

Liliana lifts her chin.

"Curiosity isn't trust. And I don't trust men who stalk me and send cryptic messages."

He chuckles, low and smooth.

"Fair. But if I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have made it this far."

Her stomach tightens. That should scare her. It doesn't.

"Then what do you want, Dante?" she challenges.

For the first time, something shifts in his expression. The smirk fades. His eyes darken.

"To show you the truth."

Liliana frowns. "Truth about what?"

Dante leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"About Adrian. About Valenti. About why walking away from them won't be enough."

Her breath catches. What does he know?

Her phone vibrates. Another message. From Adrian.

She glances down.

Adrian:

"Whatever you do, stay away from him."

Slowly, Liliana looks back up at Dante. He's watching her, amused.

"Let me guess," he murmurs. "Adrian's warning you about me."

He takes another step closer, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off him.

"So tell me, sweetheart… do you listen to him? Or do you find out for yourself?"

Liliana folds her arms, standing her ground despite the way Dante's presence seems to command the very air around her.

"I don't trust Adrian," she says firmly. "But I don't trust you either. So if you want me to listen, give me a reason. Something real. Otherwise, I'm walking away."

Dante watches her carefully, his expression unreadable. Then—he smiles. But it's not amusement this time. It's approval.

"Good," he murmurs. "I was hoping you weren't the kind of woman who's easily swayed by a pretty face and a few cryptic words."

Liliana arches a brow. "That's debatable."

His chuckle is dark, almost like he's enjoying this more than he should. Then, his expression hardens.

"Fine. You want something real?" He steps closer—too close—until the warmth of his breath ghosts against her skin.

"Adrian didn't just want you. He needed you. Because you were his cover—his way to stay clean while he dirtied his hands."

Her stomach twists. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dante tilts his head, his gaze unwavering. "Would you really know if he wasn't?"