Two weeks later.
Ava stood in the middle of the conference room, dressed in designer silk, but she may as well have been wearing armor.
Dante shut the door behind him, jaw tight. "You disappeared without a word."
"I needed space." Her voice was cool. "You don't own me, I don't owe you anything Dante."
"No. But we have an alliance. You don't get to vanish without consequences."
Ava turned to face him fully, eyes blazing. "Funny. You didn't seem worried about 'consequences' when you decided to hide my own bloodline from me, I am tired of all this can't I just live a normal life."
Dante flinched, only slightly, but she saw it.
"You knew," she said. "Didn't you? Before I ever stepped foot into your world,."
"I suspected," he admitted. "But I didn't have proof. And I wasn't going to gamble your life on a theory."
"No, you gambled my trust instead."
He took a step toward her. "Ava—"
"Don't." She raised a hand, shutting down whatever explanation he was about to offer. "You talk about this 'bond' like it's sacred, but you've treated me like a pawn since day one. Something to be used. Or protected. But never included."
His voice deepened, more growl than man. "You think this is easy for me? You think watching you walk into danger, watched by enemies I can't name yet, is something I enjoy?"
"What I think," she snapped, stepping forward until there was barely an inch between them, "is that you're not used to people calling you out."
Dante eyes locked on hers. "And you're not used to being out of control."
"I'm not out of control," she said. "I'm just tired of everything."
A tense silence stretched between them—anger, power, something unspoken.
"I need time," Ava said finally. "To decide if this alliance still means anything to me."
Dante's voice dropped, low and raw. "And if it doesn't?"
She met his gaze without flinching. "Then we end it. And we will both go our separate ways."
She turned and walked out, not even sparing a glance behind her.