Chapter 31
Dante’s POV
I shouldn’t be here.
I tell myself that for the hundredth time as I lean against the doorway, watching her.
Aria.
Even in sleep, she’s restless. Her fingers curl into the sheets, her brow furrowed like she’s fighting something–someone. Maybe it’s her past. Maybe it’s us.
Maybe it’s me.
A part of me hopes she never truly understands what she’s gotten herself into. The other part–the selfish, reckless wants her to stay.
She doesn’t belong in our world.
And yet, she’s tangled in it now, whether she realizes it or not.
part-
The room is dim, the glow from the bedside lamp casting a soft halo over her face. She looks delicate like this. Fragile. But I know better.
Aria isn’t fragile.
She’s fire wrapped in silk. Stubborn. Sharp. Fierce in ways she doesn’t even recognize yet.
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. I should walk away. Let her sleep.
Instead, I step forward. Just a little. Close enough to reach down and adjust the blanket she’s kicked off in her sleep.
Too close.
The moment my fingers brush the fabric near her hip, she stirs, her breath hitching as if sensing me even in -unconsciousness. I freeze.
Her lips part slightly, a soft murmur escaping them, but she doesn’t wake.
I should move back. Leave.
But I don’t.
Because I can’t.
Instead, my fingers skim the side of her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The contact is brief, but it burns
like a brand.
I force myself to straighten. To turn away.
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Because if I don’t, I’ll cross a line I can never uncross.
Matteo is sprawled across the couch, legs kicked up like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Typical. You’d never guess he put a bullet in a man’s skull two hours ago.
Enzo stands by the window, arms crossed, his face unreadable. He’s thinking. Always thinking.
“She saw too much tonight,” Matteo says, not bothering to look up.
Enzo’s jaw tightens. “She’s not stupid. She knows something’s off.”
I take a slow breath, rolling the tension out of my shoulders. “We keep her out of it. She doesn’t need to know.”
Matteo chuckles, dark and amused. “And when she asks? Because she will.”
I don’t answer.
Because he’s right.
Aria isn’t the type to sit back and pretend. She questions everything. Pushes when she shouldn’t. She’ll keep digging until
she unearths things she has no business knowing.
Enzo finally turns from the window. His voice is quiet, but weighted. “The real problem isn’t what she saw.”
He doesn’t need to say it.
I already know.
The problem is us.
“We should’ve pushed her away from the start,” Enzo mutters, his fingers tapping absently against his arm.
Matteo smirks, lazy and knowing. “And yet, here we are.”
He isn’t wrong.
We all felt it. The pull. The need.
It started as a flicker. An interest we should’ve ignored.
But then it became something more.
I exhale sharply. “We can’t afford to be selfish.”
Matteo’s grin deepens. “Too late for that, fratello.”
The bastard is enjoying this. That’s Matteo for you.
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Enzo looks at me, his expression unreadable. “She’s not safe with us.”
I clench my fists. “She’s safer with us than without.”
Matteo tilts his head, watching me. Studying me. “Is that why you stayed outside her room for twenty minutes before coming down here?”
I go still.
Enzo’s gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t say anything.
Matteo chuckles. “Thought so.”
Footsteps on the stairs.
A shadow in the doorway.
I know it’s her before I even turn.
Aria stands there, sleep–mussed, her hair falling over one shoulder in messy waves. The oversized hoodie she’s wearing
swallows her frame, making her look smaller than she really is.
But it’s her eyes that get me.
Sharp. Suspicious. Taking everything in.
Too observant for her own good.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
Matteo and Enzo exchange looks.
I clench my jaw.
She doesn’t miss a damn thing.
I move first, stepping in front of her. Blocking her view. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Aria folds her arms. “Right. Because lying to me has worked so well so far.”
Matteo smirks, tilting his head. “You always this nosy, gattina?”
Her eyes flick to him. “You always this cocky?”
Matteo chuckles, low and amused. “You wound me.”
Enzo sighs, stepping closer. His voice is softer but firm. “You should be in bed, Aria.”
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She lifts her chin. “And what if I don’t want to go?”
Of course, she doesn’t.
I move first, closing the space between us. My voice drops. “Aria.” A warning.
She doesn’t back down.
Matteo watches us, amused, like a predator toying with his prey.
Enzo’s fingers twitch–he wants to touch her. To soothe her.
She looks between us, defiant.
“You keep telling me to stay out of it,”
she says,
voice steady, “but you won’t tell me why.”
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