Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

DANTE
Her words hit me like a gunshot.
Her horror cut too deep. I froze, torn between the sharp hit of dominance and the uneasy twist low in my gut.
For a second, I wasn’t the predator anymore, just a man who’d pushed too far. I hated that feeling, the slip of control.
What the hell am I doing?
A weight settled on my shoulders. I held my stance, rigid, but underneath it, something that felt like regret stirred in the shadows.
For the first time, I hesitated. I hadn’t expected her reaction to hit this raw. My grip slackened. Confusion flickered through me. I didn’t let doubt in often, but it edged in now, quiet and stubborn.
I shoved it aside and leaned closer. My breath skimmed her cheek.
“Now,” I said, keeping my tone even, “I’m going to ask you some questions.” Nod yes or no. Understand?”
She gave a jerky nod, her breath fast and uneven.
“Breathe slowly,” I told her. She inhaled again, shaky, but steadied a moment later.
“Good girl.”
Defiance sparked in her tear-filled eyes.
“I’m n-not a dog!” she snapped, her body rigid with a trembling mix of fury and fear.
My brows lifted, surprised. A part of me admired the fire. Another part bristled at the defiance.
A low chuckle rumbled in my chest. So, she hates that. Interesting.
“Shhh.” I pressed a finger to her lips, amusement fading.
“Now, listen carefully.”
She nodded, wary.
“Are you hiding from your family because they want to hurt you?”
A long pause. Then a nod. Her eyes dropped as tears spilled free. She nodded again, shoulders shaking under the weight of whatever nightmare followed her here.
Then she clutched my shirt. Her fingers twisted tightly in the fabric as she buried her face against my chest and sobbed.
I stiffened. My hands hovered, caught between shoving her away and letting her stay. Her desperation crawled under my skin, unraveling the grip I prided myself on, over her, over the moment, over myself.
I couldn’t tell if this was real or some carefully played act. Suspicion scraped at the edges of my mind, clashing with something I refused to name.
I peeled her hands off my chest and caught her chin, not gently, tilting her face up until her eyes met mine.
“Are you afraid of me or your family?” My voice came out cold.
“Both,” she whispered, holding my stare. “But I’d rather take my chances with you.”
The words landed hard. Honest. Unexpected. They hit like a punch straight to the chest. My fingers loosened.
What is she doing to me?
This uncertainty... I hated it. Hated the shift in control.
“Pathetic,” I muttered, shoving the unease back down where it belonged.
I stood and grabbed her bag and guitar. My fingers brushed the dog. Mr. Buttons. For the briefest moment, I hesitated before picking him up, careful but firm.
“Please don’t take him.”
Her voice cracked. Desperation rang through it.
I stilled. My eyes flicked to her. Something in that plea rooted me in place. My movements turned mechanical as I punched in the code.
“Wait!” Her voice broke open. “What are you going to do?”
I tilted my head slightly. When her eyes met mine, I didn’t blink. I kept my expression flat, unreadable. A slow, bitter smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.
“I haven’t decided,” I said, letting the words drag. “But it won’t be anything you’ll enjoy. I have a room for people who forget where they stand.”
She didn’t say a word, but I felt the chill roll off her, heavy and immediate.
“Tomorrow, we’ll find out how well you handle the consequences.” My tone stayed light. Too light. Like I was talking about the weather.
“I have a reputation to protect.”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
I leaned in close, letting my voice drop to a whisper.
“I’m going to break you.” And when I’m done, you’ll be a shadow of yourself. You’ll serve as a lesson in obedience.”
Silence pressed in.
“And when I’ve had my fill of you,” I added, “when you’ve learned exactly what it means to defy me, I’ll send you back to your family.” I let the words sharpen.
“Let them deal with whatever’s left.”
Her pulse jumped. I saw it in the quick rise of her chest.
“No…”
The word floated in the air between us. Soft. Fragile.
Then she screamed it.
“No! You don’t get to decide for me! You don’t get to send me back!”
Something cracked in her voice. The fear didn’t vanish. Rage burned through it, fast and hot. She lunged at me, fists pounding against my chest.
“I don’t belong to you!” she shouted. “I don’t belong to them! I belong to me!”
Each strike landed with more force, like she could beat the years of helplessness out of herself and into me.
“I belong to me! Do you hear me? I belong to me!”
I didn’t move. Her fury slammed into me, relentless.
She swung again. This time I caught her wrist midair, my fingers locking tight. Pain flashed across her face as she struggled.
“Are you finished?” My voice stayed smooth, untouched. Her rage didn’t touch me. Not on the surface.
I leaned in, close enough for my breath to skim her cheek.
“Let me explain something,” I said, voice calm and flat. “You can scream, fight, cry, it doesn’t matter.”
None of it changes the fact that I own you now. And when I’m done with you, I will send you back.”
She stilled. The words hit hard and final. Her fire dimmed.
Something in her shifted. The tears dried. She went still in my grasp, too still.
I loosened my hold, watching her. Waiting. But she didn’t move. There was nothing left in her eyes.
“Finally quiet,” I said it more to the silence than to her.
She lifted her chin. Her voice came low, even.
“The only thing you’ll be sending back to my family is my cold, dead body.”
I froze.
The smirk dropped.
The air between us thickened, something sharp threading through the silence.
Her eyes didn’t plead. Didn’t challenge. They just looked... empty.
Not broken. Not submissive.
Just gone.
The fire I’d seen burning so hot minutes ago had vanished, snuffed out with a quiet finality that left something raw in its place.
Something had changed. Shifted.
Too quiet. Too still.
And for a split second, I felt it: a disturbance I couldn’t explain. Like the air had turned.
She’s bluffing. Testing me.
I told myself that as I straightened, grabbing the bag and the dog with mechanical precision. My movements were steady, but something inside me wasn’t.
My hand hovered over the door.
“Sleep well, Tori.” My voice sounded like mine again. Flat. Measured.
“You’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.”
The door clicked behind me.
TORI
Silence settled over me, heavy and absolute.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t tremble.
His words still hung in the air like a noose. But I wasn’t suffocating anymore.
I was clear.
The terror hadn’t vanished. It had burned down to something sharper, something cold and quiet that settled deep in my chest.
Let him think I’d broken. Let him believe I’d gone silent out of defeat.
I’ll use that.
If my only options were Dante’s punishment or a lifetime of suffering as Marcos’s wife, I’d choose freedom, no matter the cost.
The thought settled like stone in my soul. My heart steadied.
This wasn’t panic. This wasn’t desperation.
This was power.
And I knew exactly what I needed to do.