---
Isolde Pov:
The campus buzzed about it for days: the annual Fall Masquerade. A party thrown by one of the fraternities, always wild, always reckless.
Tessa practically begged me to go.
"You need to loosen up, Isolde," she said, tugging at my arm. "Just one night. Music, drinks, dancing. Forget about your broody neighbor for once."
But forgetting Dante was impossible. He lived across the hall, in my walls, in my veins. Every time I tried to breathe, I swore I could hear his voice.
Still… I went.
---
The fraternity house was glowing with colored lights, bass shaking the floors. Masks, glitter, smoke in the air. Everyone was drunk on the promise of chaos.
"Isolde." A voice broke through the noise. I turned—and blinked.
Eric. Star soccer player. Blonde hair, perfect smile, the kind of boy everyone's mother adored.
"Dance with me?" His smile was warm, innocent. So different from Dante's burning smirk.
For a moment, I let him take my hand. I let him spin me under the flashing lights. And for a moment, I thought—this is what normal feels like.
Until my gaze caught across the room.
Dante. Standing against the wall, mask in hand, eyes sharp as knives as they burned into me.
My breath caught. His jaw clenched. And even through the crowd, I knew—he was furious.
---
The night spiraled. The music grew louder, hotter. Shots of whiskey burned down my throat. Eric leaned in close, whispering something I didn't hear, because all I felt was Dante's stare slicing through me.
Then—the screaming started.
Smoke. Real smoke, curling up the stairwell. Someone yelling about fire. People shoving, panicking, drinks spilling everywhere.
Eric grabbed my hand. "This way!"
But before I could move, another hand clamped around my wrist—rough, demanding, familiar.
Dante.
---
The chaos swallowed us as he shoved me down a dark hallway. He yanked open a door and dragged me inside. A closet. Cramped, dark, the smell of paint and wood surrounding us.
"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, shoving at his chest.
He slammed the door shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my cheek.
"You think I'm going to let you run off with him? You think you're safe with boys like that?!"
My pulse hammered. "You don't get to control me!"
His laugh was dark, bitter. "The fuck I don't. Every time you walk into a room, Isolde, every man looks at you. And I swear—" His hand pressed against the wall beside my head, his voice dropping to a growl. "—if anyone else lays a hand on you, I'll burn the whole goddamn city down."
I should've been scared. But all I felt was heat.
His eyes dropped to my lips. Mine betrayed me, doing the same.
"Dante…" My voice broke, trembling between fear and need.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"Dante."
The space between us dissolved. His hand slid to my jaw, tilting my face up, and for a heartbeat I swore he was going to kiss me.
But then—
Boom. The sound of glass shattering outside, followed by more screams.
He cursed, yanking the closet door open. The hallway glowed orange with firelight.
"Stay close to me," he growled, pulling me against him. "If I lose you tonight, I'll never forgive you."
---
And as the flames swallowed the party, I realized two things:
1. Someone wanted me caught in this fire.
2. And Dante Moretti would rather set the world ablaze than ever let me go.
---