The mansion was silent, moonlight slipping through tall windows in pale streaks. The night felt heavy, pressing, but Avery couldn't sleep.
She moved carefully through the dark halls until she reached his door.
A small push. Just enough to slip inside.
The fireplace cast soft flickers across the walls. Dante lay on the bed, still and calm—too calm. His face, in sleep, looked less cruel. Almost... peaceful.
Avery's breath caught. She took a step closer, something pulling her in. Slowly, she reached out, brushing her fingers along his cheek. Cool. Real.
She leaned in, voice barely a whisper.
> "Dante..."
No response.
Relief flooded her. He was asleep. She turned to leave—
A hand snapped out, iron-strong around her wrist.
> "Lost at midnight?"
His voice was slow. Dangerous.
"Want a bedtime story?"
His eyes opened, locking onto hers.
Avery's heart thudded. Her mouth went dry.
"You think you scare me?" she asked, lifting her chin.
Dante's lips twitched—not warmth, but interest.
"I don't need to," he said. "You already know what I am."
He stood, closing the space between them. Not touching—but close enough the air shifted.
"Was it desperation," he murmured, "or curiosity that brought you here?"
She hesitated. "Does it matter?"
"It does to me."
The silence stretched.
Then, he turned away. "Go back to bed."
"You said the bargain starts now."
"It does," he said, facing her again. "But not tonight. Tonight, you learn the rules."
Avery crossed her arms. "What rules?"
He stepped closer.
"You don't come to my room. You don't touch me without permission. And you don't ever think you'll outplay the devil."
Her breath hitched.
Then, low near her ear:
> "Unless you want to get burned."
Avery stood frozen. His nearness stirred something reckless in her chest.
She swallowed. "Maybe I don't mind the fire."
His eyes flickered—something unreadable passing through them. Then it was gone.
"Be careful what you flirt with," he said. "Flames don't forgive."
She turned away, heart pounding. At the door, she paused.
> "Goodnight, Dante."
His voice followed, cool and dry.
> "We'll see if it is."
--
The hallway felt different now. Heavier. Like she'd touched something she couldn't undo.
Back in her room, she leaned against the door, breathing hard. Her hands trembled—not from fear—but from something sharper.
She'd entered the lion's den… and a part of her had dared him to bite.
Lying in bed, eyes wide, she couldn't stop replaying it. Every word. Every glance.
Dante Harlan wasn't just dangerous.
He was fire—and she'd stepped into it willingly.
But she couldn't back down.
Because her soul wasn't the only thing on the line.
Ethan.
She closed her eyes, holding his name like armor.
The bargain had begun.