“W-what?” he stammers, wide-eyed, those dark irises blown wide like full moons. Worry flares bright in his eyes as he reaches up, his fingers wrapping carefully around mine. The barely-there brush of contact skates over my skin, sending a strange, electric shiver spiraling down my spine. “Are you?—”
“I don’t want to keep doing this,” I cut in, the words tumbling out too fast, my breath hitching as I deliberately let them trip over each other. “He keeps forcing me—he says he’ll kill me if I don’t, and I… I can’t do it anymore!”
I’m close enough to feel his heartbeat drumming against his chest—steady at first, then faltering under my proximity. The sound fills my ears, a living rhythm begging to be touched. One move is all it would take to end it. To silence everything.
Bloodlust curls behind my eyes, warm and thrilling. “Let’s run away together,” I whisper, watching his pupils dilate, watching confusion twist into panic. “I know you didn’t choose this life either. I see it in you. Please…”
His lips part, then seal themselves again, as if the words he wants to say evaporate on contact with the air. He drags his tongue across them—dry, nervous—just as his gaze jerks toward the hallway at the faint echo of approaching footsteps.
The fear in him sharpens into something almost heartbreaking. He looks disoriented, unmoored, as every inch of my fabricated words sinks in. His fingers curl more firmly around mine with a growing urgency. And there it is—a subtle, involuntary flinch running through his body, like a man bracing to whisk me away, to haul me out of here and sprint straight into some imagined safety, some impossible sunset.
And that’s when the storm finally tears itself open.
A wide grin stretches across my face as I spring back, the sudden loss of his warmth sending a strange ache through me. But it’s drowned out by the laugh that tears from my throat—raw, sharp, and so loud it burns.
“Jesus,” Cane mutters as he comes closer, standing beside me. “What the fuck did you say to him?”
It takes me a moment to catch my breath, still dizzy from the chaos I’ve stirred, drunk on the beautiful wreckage of it. “Nothing,” I answer, all sugar and innocence, my gaze glued to the way Dante’s expression continues to crumble. “I just played a little.”
And oh, what a gorgeous canvas his face becomes—shame smudging into fear, fear bleeding into the first hints of fury—each emotion layering over the next until they fuse into a single, perfect storm.
It always fascinates me—how drastically humans transform when emotions swallow them whole. It’s mesmerizing, almost artful, from the ugly little spasms that tug at their features to the involuntary tremors that ripple through their bodies. Everything raw, exposed, unguarded. And it’s always so easy to get what I want when I press the right buttons and watch them unravel.
A pressure in my chest pulls me back from my thoughts, and I glance down, spotting a red apple in Cane’s hand. Slowly, I reach out to grab it.
“Where did you find it?” I ask skeptically. The thought of even holding something he discovered in this place sends a shiver down my spine.
“Don’t worry, it’s not from here. You need some energy.”
I scoff, twisting and rotating the apple in my hand. “You thinkthiswill give me the energy I need? What about real food?”
“That’s where Dante comes in,” he says, his confidence sharp and unwavering, and I can tell the bastard’s had this mappedout from the start. He flicks a glance at him. “Go grab dinner somewhere. It’s been a long day—you both earned it.”
“Go out like this?” I ask, tilting my head toward Dante’s sweat-stained uniform before sweeping a hand toward my own disheveled state.
Cane lets a smirk curl across his face. “Luckily for you, this place has two bathrooms. Don’t let the hallway fool you—the rest of the apartment is actually functional, and all set up just for you.” He gestures vaguely, then adds, “Clothes are already laid out for both of you.” Pulling a phone from his pocket, he glances at it and shakes his head before tucking it away. “I’ve got to go. But promise me one thing—no more mischief, okay?”
“Fine,” I reply through clenched teeth, handing the apple back to him. “Take this atrocity with you. Dante’s taking me out.”
I pivot toward Dante, a mischievous sparkle igniting in my eyes, hinting at thoughts I’m barely holding back. “Isn’t that right, Dante?”
He holds a short pause. “That’s right, Estella.”
She’s insufferable. Incredibly active—like she’s got a damn propeller stuck right up her ass. Always twitching, shifting, her eyes darting around the space like she’s hunting for something she doesn’t even know exists.
And yet… there’s this strange ache in my chest as I watch her. A quiet warmth. A sense of comfort, like I’m sitting across the table from an old friend, not a deadly assassin I’m trying to fool. The atmosphere doesn’t match the danger of the situation, and I find myself clinging to that dissonance like it might make this easier.
She’s transformed now—clad in a black T-shirt and matching bicycle shorts. Damp strands of hair cling to her face and neck, darkened from the shower, framing the subtle tension in herfeatures. She carries an air of ease, but the bruises marring her skin scream of the torment she endured in that prison. A sharp spike of worry lances through me, twisting into a strange, spiraling sensation that tightens in my chest.
Before I can get too lost in that feeling, Estella reaches for a camembert bite, lifting the golden-crusted piece and dunking it into a small bowl of cheese sauce.
“Double cheese,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “You’re apsychopath.”
She raises an eyebrow, and I can’t tell if she’s offended or just surprised by how lame that was.
“Your sense of humor is terrible,Dante,” she says, shoving a bite of food into her mouth with complete disregard, the sauce smearing the corners of her lips as if daring anyone to care.
My name on her tongue sends a sudden twinge through me. Ever since she found it out, she’s been saying it again and again, drawing out each syllable as though she’s rolling a secret across her palate. And I don’t know why, but it twists something deep in me every time.
