The car ride to Dante's estate was silent.
Avery sat in the backseat, eyes fixed on the blur of the city disappearing behind them. Beside her, Ethan leaned against the window, his small frame wrapped in a hoodie too big for his thin shoulders. He hadn't asked many questions—not after Avery told him they'd be safe now. Safer than they'd ever been.
But safe didn't mean free.
As the estate came into view again, rising like something carved out of midnight itself, Avery felt the weight of her choice clamp down around her like invisible chains. She had traded freedom for power, traded herself for the hope of a future—for Ethan, if not for her.
The gates opened automatically, just as they had before. This time, the driver didn't glance back. He simply drove up the winding path and stopped in front of the massive doors.
A butler waited there—expression blank, posture too perfect. "Miss Quinn. Mr. Quinn. Welcome."
Ethan glanced at Avery nervously. She reached over, squeezed his hand. "We're okay," she whispered.
Inside, the house was even colder than she remembered.
Not in temperature—but in presence. Like the walls were watching. Judging. Waiting.
"You'll be shown to your quarters," the butler said. "The master will speak with you tonight. Until then, make yourselves… comfortable."
Comfortable. In a place like this?
They were led up the staircase and down a long, dim hall. The room Ethan was given was large—larger than anything he'd ever had before—with thick curtains, a warm bed, and shelves already filled with books and puzzles. Still, Avery noticed the small camera tucked high in the corner.
He was being watched.
So was she.
Her room was next door. Similar in size—but darker. There were no windows. Just a tall wardrobe, a sleek desk, and a bed draped in black linen.
As soon as the door closed behind her, she sat on the edge of the mattress and exhaled for the first time in hours.
She had made her bargain.
And now… she was under his roof.
Avery didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the wall. The silence in the room wasn't peaceful—it was pressing. The kind of quiet that hummed with secrets.
A soft knock broke the stillness.
She stood quickly, half-expecting to find Dante on the other side. But it was a woman—tall, severe, dressed in dark gray. Her hands were clasped in front of her like a soldier's.
"Dinner will be served in twenty minutes," she said. Her voice held no warmth. "Master Harlan expects you downstairs."
And then she turned and walked away.
Not "Would you like to join us?" or "He'd like to see you." It was an order, disguised as routine.
Avery freshened up, brushing back her hair and changing into something simple. Nothing fancy. She wasn't here to impress anyone—least of all him.
She checked on Ethan first. He was curled up in bed, fast asleep. The long day had drained him.
She leaned over, kissed his forehead, and whispered, "I'll be back."
Then she made her way down the winding stairs, each step louder than the last.
The dining room was gothic and grand. One long table. Two chairs.
And Dante already seated at the head.
He didn't look up when she entered. Just poured a glass of wine with the precision of someone who never rushed anything.
"You're late," he said.
"I didn't realize—"
"You're under my roof now." His eyes lifted slowly. Cold. Unblinking. "You don't get to realize anymore. You follow."
Avery swallowed and walked to the other end of the table.
"Sit."
She did.
The butler reappeared, placing a porcelain plate in front of her with gloved hands. She barely registered the food. All she could feel was Dante's gaze, sharp as a scalpel, cutting through every layer of armor she had left.
He took a sip of his wine, then said, "You look surprised."
"I'm just... adjusting."
"To being owned?"
She flinched.
Dante chuckled, low and almost amused. "Don't worry. You'll learn quickly. Most desperate things do."
Avery's jaw clenched. "I'm not a thing."
"No," he said softly, "but you belong to one now."
The words settled over the room like smoke.
And across the table, the devil smiled.
Just as Avery's fingers tightened around her fork, a small voice broke the silence.
"Can I sit here?"
She turned—so did Dante.
Ethan stood at the doorway, barefoot and rubbing one eye, his curls a soft mess. He looked too small for this room. Too innocent.
Avery pushed back her chair immediately. "Ethan, what are you doing up?"
"I smelled food," he said sleepily. "And I didn't want to eat alone."
Before Avery could respond, Dante spoke.
"Let him."
His voice wasn't kind. It was command.
A second place was set in quiet haste by the butler. Ethan padded into the room and climbed into the chair beside Avery, his legs swinging a little above the floor.
"This place is really big," Ethan said, looking around as if they'd entered a castle.
Dante watched him closely—too closely.
Avery reached out, placing a protective hand on her brother's arm. "He's just a kid."
"Exactly," Dante murmured. He turned his glass slowly, almost absently. "A quiet one. I like that."
Ethan looked at him curiously. "Are you Avery's boss?"
The corner of Dante's mouth twitched. "Something like that."
"Do you like her?"
Avery froze.
Dante looked directly at her, eyes like polished onyx. "Not yet."
Ethan giggled—like he thought it was a joke. But it wasn't. And Avery knew that too well.
The meal passed in slow silence. Ethan happily munched on warm rolls and stew, unaware of the invisible war taking place between the two adults at the table.
After dinner, Avery stood. "I'll take him back up."
But Dante raised one hand.
"I'll have someone escort him."
Avery's heart stuttered. "He's not—"
"I keep what's mine safe," he said, voice like frost. "He'll be fine."
The tall maid from earlier appeared in the doorway, gesturing gently for Ethan.
Avery crouched, kissing her brother's cheek. "Go on. I'll be up soon."
Ethan smiled, trusting, and followed the woman without hesitation.
When Avery stood again, Dante was already on his feet.
"That was cruel," she snapped under her breath.
He turned, slowly. "No. That was control."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he stepped closer, not touching, just towering.
"This is your new world, Avery. You don't get to fight it. You begged for this bargain. And now…" he leaned in, voice a whisper, "you live in it."
Then he left her standing in that vast, frozen room—with only her heartbeat and his shadow for company.
***
The silence in the mansion was unnerving.
Avery stood at the edge of the dimly lit hallway outside her bedroom, the ancient wooden floors creaking faintly beneath her bare feet. The overhead chandelier cast soft golden shadows that danced across the walls, revealing the sharp elegance of the mansion's architecture—ornate carvings, tall ceilings, arched doorways that felt more like thresholds into secrets than rooms.
Ethan had fallen asleep not long ago, wrapped in warm sheets and unaware of the devil he now lived under. But Avery couldn't rest. Not when her mind was a storm of uncertainty and adrenaline. She had offered herself—everything—to a man whose eyes had no mercy. Now, she was living in his home. Under his rules. On his terms.
She stepped forward, the hem of her nightdress brushing the floor as she walked. Every hallway she passed felt endless, like the mansion was far larger than it appeared from outside. Portraits of people she didn't recognize lined the walls—stern men, ghost-eyed women, none of them smiling.
Avery paused by a slightly ajar door.
She shouldn't open it.
So she did.
Inside was a study. The air was heavier here, thicker with the scent of leather-bound books and something darker—cigars? Blood? Secrets? She stepped in slowly, trailing her fingers along the bookshelves until she reached the massive desk. Black marble. Immaculate. At its center sat a single item: a silver lighter, engraved with a horned serpent curling around a sword.
She didn't touch it.
Because something told her Dante would know.
Avery turned back—and froze.
He was standing there.
Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes like shadowed flame. Unreadable. Cold. Dressed in black again, like he'd stepped out of a nightmare stitched from silk and steel.
"You're quite the explorer," he said, voice low, sharp.
She swallowed hard. "I couldn't sleep."
"Curiosity often gets kittens killed."
His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile—more like the shadow of one. He stepped into the room, not closing the door behind him.
"I didn't mean to—" she began.
"I know." He circled her slowly, not touching, not even looking at her fully. "But it's still my house. And I don't like uninvited hands on my things."
"I didn't touch anything."
"Yet."
The air between them grew tense, tight. Avery stood her ground. "Is there any part of this house I'm allowed in?"
"Your room. Your brother's. And the dining area. For now."
"And the rest?"
He tilted his head. "Earn it."
Her breath caught.
It was a threat. Or a challenge. Or both.
Dante moved past her and sat at the desk, flicking the lighter open once. Then shut. Again.
"I don't sleep much," he said flatly. "You'll get used to that too."
Avery stared at him, trying to read a face that refused to be read.
"Goodnight, Avery," he added, voice suddenly soft—but it wasn't kindness. It was dismissal.
She left.
The door closed behind her with a sound that felt too final.