"Dante—"
"They go where they want." His shadows curled tighter around her ankles. "And apparently, they want to be wrapped around you. Can't imagine where they got that idea."
Heat flooded her cheeks. From anger, she told herself—only anger.
"You're being ridiculous. I danced with people at a party. That's not a crime."
"You were punishing me." He leaned closer, and she pressed back against the wall, heart pounding. "Every smile you gave them. Every laugh. You were making sure I saw. Making sure I suffered."
"And what if I was?" She met his stare without flinching, even as the shadows crept higher, teasing the hem of her dress. "What if I wanted you to feel even a fraction of what I felt when I found out you'd been lying to me for weeks?"
"I never lied to you."
"Oh, spare me?—"
"I never lied." His hands pressed harder against the wall, bracketing her completely. "Every word I've ever spoken to you has been true."
"You kept my own identity from me! You knew what I was, who I was, and you said nothing while I stumbled around in the dark!"
"To protect you?—"
"To control me!" She shoved at his chest again, and this time he shifted back half a step. Not much, but enough that she could breathe. "You made decisions about my life without asking. You treated me like I was too fragile to handle the truth. That's not protection, Dante. That's manipulation."
His mask cracked. She saw it, the flash of pain beneath the anger.
"And tonight," she continued, pressing her advantage, "you dragged me out of that gathering like I was property. Made a scene infront of every Death Lord in existence. Do you have any idea what that looked like? How it felt?"
"I don't care how it looked."
"Of course you don't! Because you never think about what I might want. You just decide what's best and expect me to fall in line like everyone else in your court."
His shadows had gone still around her legs. The air between them crackled with tension.
"Is that what you think?" His voice was quiet now. Dangerously quiet. "That I see you like everyone else?"
"I think you see me as something to manage. Something to protect whether I want it or not. Something to keep in the dark because you've decided I can't handle the truth.”
"Brynn—"
"No." She held up a hand, cutting him off. "You don't get to 'Brynn' me right now. Not after weeks of cold shoulders and making decisions behind my back. You wanted to know why I danced with them tonight? Why I smiled and laughed and let them touch me?"
She stepped forward, into his space, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
"Because they asked. Because they treated me like a person with choices instead of a problem to be solved. Because for one night, I wanted to feel like I mattered to someone who wasn't trying to control me."
She watched each word land. Watched him flinch.
But the satisfaction felt hollow. Bitter on her tongue.
His shadows had retreated, pooling around his feet. His fingers curled at his sides.
When he finally spoke, his voice was raw.
"You're right."
She blinked. Whatever she'd expected him to say, it wasn't that.
"What?"
