Aria's POV
I can't stop seeing those names carved in stone.
Alessandro & Sofia - 1944Giuseppe & Francesca - 1967David & Christina - 2001
Couples who broke the Blood Oath. Couples who died for it.
Back in my room, I lock the door three times. Check the windows twice. Test the balcony doors until I'm certain they're sealed.
My hands shake as I pull out my phone. No signal. Of course there's no signal. This entire compound is probably blocked.
I could run. Grab Mom and just run.
But where? We have no money. No car. And those guards at the gate had guns.
I'm trapped in a mansion with people who believe in curses and execute family members for falling in love.
This can't be real. It can't.
I collapse on the bed fully dressed, too scared to even change into pajamas. Every shadow feels like it's watching. Every creak of the old house sounds like footsteps.
Vincent's words echo in my head: Violate it, and you both die. I will personally carry out the execution.
And Dante's eyes across the chapel—burning into me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
He's been watching me for three years. Protecting me. Falling for me.
And now his father will kill us both if we so much as look at each other wrong.
I should hate Dante. Should be terrified of his obsession.
Instead, I keep remembering the way he looked at me. Like I was the only thing in his world that mattered.
Stop it, I tell myself. He's dangerous. His whole family is dangerous.
But my heart won't listen.
Hours pass. The mansion grows silent. Through my window, I watch the moon move across the sky.
Around 2 AM, exhaustion finally wins. My eyes drift closed.
I dream of alleys and blood and a stranger's hand gripping mine.
Stay with me, I whisper in the dream. You're going to be okay.
I know, the stranger replies with Dante's voice. Because you're here.
I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows.
For a moment, I forget where I am. Forget the Blood Oath and the memorial wall and the armed guards.
Then I see it.
On my pillow. Inches from my face.
A single black rose.
My scream catches in my throat.
I scramble backward off the bed, heart hammering, staring at the impossible flower resting where my head had been moments ago.
The rose is fresh. Real. Thorns sharp and gleaming.
Someone was in my room.
While I slept.
Placed it right next to my face.
I check the door—still locked from the inside. Windows—still sealed. Balcony—unchanged.
No one could have entered.
But the rose is real. I grab it with shaking hands, and the thorns bite into my palm, drawing blood.
This isn't a dream. Isn't my imagination.
Someone broke into my locked room and watched me sleep.
Terror gives way to rage.
I know exactly who did this.
Dante. It has to be Dante. Some sick game to scare me. To remind me he can reach me whenever he wants.
I storm to my door, yank it open, and crash straight into a wall of muscle.
Dante.
He's in running clothes, a t-shirt clinging to his chest, sweat dampening his dark hair like he's been up for hours. Like he's been waiting.
You, I snarl, shoving the rose in his face. Blood drips from my palm onto the marble floor. What the hell is this? Are you trying to scare me?
His black eyes drop to the rose. Then to my bleeding hand.
And something dangerous flashes across his face.
Not guilt. Not satisfaction.
Fear.
Where did you get that? His voice is too calm. Too controlled.
On my pillow! Right next to my head while I was sleeping! My voice cracks. You broke into my room! You—
That wasn't me. Dante grabs my wrist—not hard, but firm enough that I can't pull away. His eyes lock on mine with terrifying intensity. Tell me exactly where you found it. Every detail. Now.
Let go of me
Aria. His grip tightens slightly. This is serious. Where exactly was it?
Something in his tone—the genuine fear—makes me hesitate. On my pillow. Right where my head was. Why does it
Dante's jaw clenches so hard I hear teeth grinding.
Then he pulls me down the hallway.
What are you doing? I try to dig in my heels, but he's too strong. Let go!
Someone just sent you a death threat and you don't even realize it. He yanks open a door, drags me inside what looks like a study, and locks it behind us.
A death threat? My voice goes shrill. It's a flower!
It's a black rose on your pillow. Dante releases my wrist, but blocks the door. That's how they marked the last couple who violated the Blood Oath. David and Christina, 2001. Someone left black roses on their pillows three days before they were found dead.
The room tilts. What?
Locked room. Throats cut. No weapon. No way in or out. His voice is cold. Factual. Like he's reciting a report instead of describing murders. The roses were a warning. A message that the oath was watching them.
Ice floods my veins. You think someone's going to kill me?
I think someone knows I've been watching you for three years. And they're sending a message. Dante moves closer, and I should back away but I'm frozen. Did you lock your door last night?
Yes! I checked it three times!
Windows?
Locked. Sealed. Everything. My hands shake. No one could have gotten in. It's impossible.
Unless they have keys, Dante says quietly. Unless they're family.
The implication hits me. You think someone in your family did this?
I know they did. His black eyes burn into mine. Someone who wants to prove we violated the oath. Someone who wants us both dead.
But we haven't done anything! Panic claws up my throat. We barely know each other!
Doesn't matter. They just need my father to believe we have. Dante pulls out his phone, types something. One photo of us alone together. One witness claiming they saw something. That's all it takes.
I sink into a chair, legs too weak to hold me. This is insane.
This is my family. He studies the rose I'm still clutching. And whoever left this wants you scared. Wants you to make mistakes. Maybe even wants you to come running to me for protection—giving them exactly the proof they need.
Then what do I do? My voice cracks. Just wait to die?
No. Dante crouches in front of me, bringing those intense black eyes level with mine. You let me protect you. You trust me. And you tell me the truth about one thing.
What?
Three years ago. Behind the campus library. There was an alley.
My breath catches.
A man was dying, Dante continues quietly. Stabbed multiple times. Bleeding out. And a nursing student found him.
The memory slams into me. That night. The shortcuts through campus. The stranger between dumpsters, barely breathing.
You held his hand, Dante says. Stayed with him even though you were late for your shift. Promised he wouldn't die alone.
Oh god.
That was you, I breathe.
Dante nods slowly. You saved my life that night, Aria. And I've been yours ever since.