UNDER HIS ROOF

The car ride back to Dante's estate was dead silent.

Avery sat in the backseat, staring out the window as the city slipped away. Next to her, Ethan leaned against the glass, swallowed up in a hoodie too big for him. He hadn't asked many questions—not after she told him they'd be safe now.

Safe didn't mean free.

When the estate came into view, black and endless as ever, a knot twisted in Avery's stomach. This was it. No turning back. She'd made the trade—freedom for safety. Herself for Ethan.

The gates opened on their own. The driver didn't speak. Just drove the long curve up to the front doors and stopped.

A butler stood waiting—stiff posture, blank face.

"Miss Quinn. Mr. Quinn. Welcome."

Ethan looked up at her. She squeezed his hand. "We're okay," she said softly.

Inside, the house was colder than she remembered.

Not in temperature. In feeling. Like something alive was hiding behind the walls, watching.

"You'll be shown to your quarters," the butler said. "The master will see you tonight. Until then, make yourselves… comfortable."

Comfortable. Sure.

They were led upstairs. Ethan's room was huge—big bed, heavy curtains, shelves of books and puzzles. But Avery spotted the camera high in the corner.

He was being watched.

So was she.

Her room was next door. Same size. Darker. No windows. A black bed, a tall wardrobe, a desk she didn't want to touch.

She sat on the edge of the bed and let herself breathe.

This was the deal. She'd made it. And now they were in his world.

She didn't know how long she sat there before the knock came.

She opened the door, heart jumping.

But it wasn't Dante.

A woman stood there. Tall. Dressed in gray. Hands clasped like she'd never relaxed a day in her life.

"Dinner is in twenty minutes," she said. "Master Harlan expects you downstairs."

Then she walked away.

Not a request. Not a question. Just an order.

Avery freshened up, changed into something plain. She wasn't here to impress him. She checked on Ethan—already asleep, curled under the covers.

She kissed his forehead. "I'll be back," she whispered.

Then she went downstairs.

The dining room was straight out of a gothic novel. Long table. Two chairs.

Dante was already there.

He didn't look up. Just poured wine like he had all the time in the world.

"You're late," he said.

"I didn't realize—"

"You're under my roof now." His gaze lifted. Cold. Sharp. "You don't get to realize anymore. You follow."

She sat at the opposite end.

The butler placed a plate in front of her. She barely looked at it. Dante's eyes were all she could feel—cutting through her like glass.

He sipped his wine.

"You look surprised," he said.

"I'm just… adjusting."

"To being owned?"

She flinched.

He smiled, barely. "Don't worry. You'll learn. Most desperate things do."

"I'm not a thing."

"No," he said quietly. "But you belong to one now."

She gripped her fork.

Then—soft footsteps.

"Can I sit here?"

Avery turned. So did Dante.

Ethan stood in the doorway, sleepy-eyed, barefoot.

"I smelled food," he mumbled. "Didn't want to eat alone."

Avery started to get up. "Ethan, it's okay—"

"Let him," Dante said.

Not kindly. Just firmly.

The butler returned and set a second place. Ethan climbed into the chair next to Avery, swinging his legs.

"This place is huge," he said, wide-eyed.

Dante watched him too closely.

Avery placed a hand on Ethan's arm. "He's just a kid."

"Exactly," Dante said. He turned his wine glass, slow. "A quiet one. I like that."

Ethan looked up at him. "Are you Avery's boss?"

Dante's lips twitched. "Something like that."

"Do you like her?"

Silence.

Then Dante looked straight at her. "Not yet."

Ethan laughed. He thought it was a joke.

Avery didn't.

They finished dinner in tense silence. Ethan happily ate. Avery barely moved. Dante watched. Always watched.

When they were done, she stood. "I'll take him up."

Dante raised a hand. "I'll have someone escort him."

"He's not—"

"I keep what's mine safe," he said flatly. "He'll be fine."

The gray-clad woman appeared again. Ethan gave Avery a quick hug and followed her without question.

Once he was gone, Avery turned on Dante.

"That was cruel."

He didn't even blink. "That was control."

She opened her mouth. He stepped closer.

"This is the world you begged to enter," he said, voice low. "You don't fight it. You live in it."

Then he walked away.

She stood alone.

---

The halls were quiet. Too quiet.

Avery stood outside her bedroom, barefoot, nightdress trailing the floor. The house was still—like it was waiting.

Ethan was asleep. Safe. But Avery couldn't rest. Not in this place. Not when every wall whispered his name.

She wandered the halls, each step echoing. Portraits lined the walls—strangers, none smiling.

She passed a door slightly open.

She paused.

Then pushed it open.

A study. Heavy air. Dark wood. It smelled like old books, smoke, and something she didn't want to name.

She stepped inside.

The desk was massive, black marble. At its center—just one item: a silver lighter. A serpent wrapped around a sword.

She didn't touch it.

Because something in her gut said he'd know.

She turned—

And froze.

Dante stood at the door.

Arms crossed. Leaning. Watching.

"You like to wander," he said.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Curiosity kills."

He stepped into the room. Didn't close the door.

"I didn't touch anything," she said quickly.

"Yet."

He circled her slowly. No contact. Just pressure.

"Is there any part of this house I'm allowed in?" she asked.

"Your room. Your brother's. Dining room. For now."

"And the rest?"

"Earn it."

She sucked in a breath. It felt like a threat.

Dante sat at the desk. Flicked the lighter open. Click. Shut. Click.

"I don't sleep much," he said.

She didn't move.

"Goodnight, Avery," he said, voice smooth. Final.

She left.

The door shut behind her.

And it felt like it locked out something far worse than the cold.