Alessia did not sleep.
Not even for a moment.
The room was quiet, too quiet, and every time she closed her eyes, the same images came back.
Her father falling.
Blood spreading across white marble.
Dante standing there, watching everything like it was nothing more than a finished task.
She sat by the window instead, her knees drawn slightly together, her fingers resting against the cold glass.
Outside, the guards were still moving.
Same pattern.
Same timing.
Nothing changed.
That was the problem.
Everything here was controlled.
Too controlled.
Morning came without warning.
No sunlight spilling dramatically into the room.
No sound of people waking up.
Just a subtle shift in the light and the quiet realization that time had passed.
The lock clicked.
Alessia turned immediately.
The door opened, and the same woman from before stepped in.
She carried another tray.
Breakfast.
Alessia didn't move this time.
"Do you always come this early?" she asked.
The woman paused for a second.
Then placed the tray down.
"It's routine."
"Whose routine?"
A hesitation.
"His."
Of course it was.
Alessia stood slowly.
"You're afraid of him."
The woman didn't respond.
"That makes two of us," Alessia added quietly.
That got a reaction.
A small one.
But enough.
"You shouldn't say things like that," the woman said.
"Why?" Alessia asked. "Will he hear me?"
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Cameras.
Microphones.
Watching.
Listening.
Alessia's gaze shifted briefly around the room.
She couldn't see anything obvious.
But that didn't mean it wasn't there.
"You're not as trapped as you think," the woman said suddenly.
Alessia looked at her sharply.
"What does that mean?"
The woman hesitated again.
Then shook her head.
"Nothing."
She turned to leave.
"Wait," Alessia said.
The woman paused.
"Who betrayed my father?"
The question came out faster than she expected.
Sharper.
More desperate.
The woman stiffened.
"I don't know," she said.
"You do," Alessia pressed.
"I don't," she repeated.
But her voice wasn't convincing.
Before Alessia could push further, the woman left.
The door locked again.
Alessia stood there, her chest rising and falling slowly.
Everyone knew something.
But no one was saying it.
That meant one thing.
Whoever was behind this…
was powerful enough to scare even the people inside this house.
The door opened again.
Too soon.
Alessia turned.
Dante stepped inside.
His presence filled the room instantly.
Not loud.
Not aggressive.
But impossible to ignore.
"You're asking questions," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"Good."
She frowned.
"You like that too?"
"I like progress," he replied.
She crossed her arms slightly.
"Then answer one."
He didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he walked further into the room, his eyes briefly scanning everything before settling on her again.
"Ask."
"Why am I really here?"
Silence.
Then he answered.
"Because you're the only person who can move freely between both sides."
Her brows pulled together.
"What sides?"
He held her gaze.
"Yours… and the one that betrayed you."
Her stomach dropped.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It will."
"No," she said. "Explain it now."
A pause.
Then he stepped closer.
"Your father trusted someone enough to make a deal that could end everything," Dante said.
Her pulse quickened.
"That person is still out there."
"I know that," she snapped.
"And they think you're dead," he continued.
The words hit her like a physical blow.
"What?"
"They think you died in the attack," he said calmly.
Her mind raced.
"That's not possible. People saw me—"
"Not after the explosion."
She froze.
Explosion.
There hadn't been one.
Not when she left.
Her chest tightened.
"You're lying."
"No," he said. "I made sure of it."
Her breathing became uneven.
"You let them think I was dead?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because dead people are invisible."
Silence filled the room.
Her thoughts spun rapidly.
Invisible.
That meant she could move.
Listen.
Watch.
But it also meant something else.
"If they find out I'm alive…"
"They'll come for you," Dante finished.
The weight of that settled heavily.
"And you want to use me as bait," she said.
"Not bait," he corrected.
"Then what?"
"A key."
She let out a short, bitter laugh.
"That's the same thing."
He didn't argue.
"That's why you're here," he said instead.
Her anger flared again.
"You don't get to decide what happens to me."
"I already did."
The words were calm.
Certain.
That made it worse.
Alessia stepped closer.
"Then let me go."
"No."
"Then kill me."
A pause.
Then something unexpected happened.
Dante smiled.
Not mocking.
Not amused.
Interested.
"You're not afraid of dying," he said.
"I lost everything," she replied. "What's left to be afraid of?"
He studied her carefully.
"That's not true."
Her chest tightened slightly.
"You still have something to lose."
She held his gaze.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he turned toward the door.
"Get dressed," he said.
Her brows pulled together.
"For what?"
"You're leaving this room."
Her heart skipped.
"Where am I going?"
He looked back at her.
"To see how well you survive outside the cage."
The door opened.
Then closed behind him.
Alessia stood there, her pulse racing.
This was it.
Her first chance.
And she wasn't going to waste it.