Chapter 2

• Dante
• Dante Russo arrived at the Deveraux mansion in a calculated silence, his men flanking him as he stepped inside. The grand home was a perfect illusion of wealth and power—but illusions were easy for him to see through.
• His mind was still replaying the moment from earlier.
• The girl. Elena.
• She had run from him. That didn’t happen often. Women usually threw themselves at him, but she had looked at him with something different.
• Fear.
• And now, when he walked into the dining hall, she was nowhere to be seen.
• "Ah, Mr. Russo," William Deveraux greeted, forcing a smile. "Welcome."
• Dante shook his hand, his grip firm, calculated. "Pleasure."
• Beside William, his wife, Genevieve, sat stiffly, her eyes darting toward Victoria, who had already draped herself in charm.
• "My father speaks so highly of you," Victoria purred, sitting beside Dante with a smile that felt too forced. "He says you’re one of the most powerful men in the business world."
• Dante ignored her flattery. He was used to this game.
• Where is she?
• He leaned back, sipping the whiskey the staff had poured for him. "I was under the impression you had two daughters."
• Victoria’s smile didn’t waver, but her fingers curled slightly.
• "Oh, Elena?" She laughed lightly. "She’s… quite dull. Never attends these things. My sister is nothing like me."
• Dante watched her carefully.
• A liar.
• "She isn’t feeling well," William added quickly.
• Dante swirled his drink, pretending to accept the excuse. But inside, his mind was already working.
• They were hiding her.
• Which meant she was worth hiding.
• 🔥 Elena
• Elena’s lungs burned as she ran through the cold streets, her stolen hoodie barely protecting her from the night air.
• She had done it. She had escaped.
• But now… she had nowhere to go.
• With no other options, she followed the glowing lights ahead.
• She hadn’t realized where she was until she stepped inside the club—Inferno.
• It was loud, chaotic, and dangerous. Women danced under neon lights, men sat in plush booths, watching with lazy smirks.
• She should have turned around.
• But she had already been seen.
• "Hey, sweetheart," a deep voice murmured as a man grabbed her wrist. "You lost?"
• She tensed.
• Before she could speak, a sharper, colder voice cut through the noise.
• "Touch her again," it said, "and I’ll make sure she’s the last thing you touch.."
• The air shifted.
• The man immediately let go immediately,terrified.
• Elena’s breath caught in her throat as she turned—and met Dante’s piercing gaze.
• “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe”. He urged, taking her hands in his.
• Dante led her upstairs.
• She didn’t fight him.
• They got to a sophisticated apartment she never thought existed in the building. Not like she had enough time to wander around the building in order to stumble upon such exotic place.
• He poured himself a drink, watching as she hesitated near the window, slightly getting lost while admiring the view.
• "Why are you alone?" he asked.
• She swallowed, moving slightly away from the window. "I ran away."
• Dante smirked. "That much I gathered, pequeña."
• He took a slow step toward her. "And now, you’re in my club."
• Her fingers gripped the hem of the hoodie she wore. "I didn’t know."
• Dante let out a low chuckle. "You should be more careful where you run, then."
• Elena’s breath hitched as he lifted a hand—not to hurt her. Just to brush a strand of hair from her face.
• "You should be afraid of me," he murmured.
• She lifted her chin,muttering so much courage she didn’t know she possessed. "I’m not."
• Dante studied her for a long moment.
• Then, finally, he smirked and took a step back.
• "Sleep here." He tossed her a hoodie.
• She blinked. "What?"
• "I won’t touch you." His smirk deepened. "Not tonight."
• She hesitated, then took the hoodie and curled up on the couch.
• Dante sat across from her, watching.
• Because she was his now.
• Even if she didn’t know it yet.
• 🔥 The Next Morning
• Dante woke slowly, stretching as the early morning light seeped into the room.
• His first instinct was to look toward the couch.
• And his entire body went still.
• It was empty.
• His hoodie was still there.
• But Elena was gone.
• Dante’s jaw ticked.
• The rage built inside him like a storm.
• She ran again.
• His grip tightened on the glass in his hand. Crack.
• "Find her," he ordered, his voice cold, lethal.
• Because this time, he wouldn’t let her go.