Twisted Loyalty

Chapter 10: Escape the Cage

Sienna

The bathroom feels like a tomb, the cold air thick with dread as I sit curled in the corner, my knees pulled to my chest. I can still hear the echo of Enzo's voice, his threats, his fists pounding against the door. But now, there's nothing—only silence. My breath comes in short, uneven gasps as I clutch my phone, Dante's last words, "I'm coming to get you. Don't move," playing over and over in my head, the only tether holding me together.

The house is quiet now, unsettlingly so. I can't hear Enzo anymore, but I can't shake the fear that he's still out there, waiting, ready to come back and finish what he started. The image of him tearing my nightgown flashes in my mind, and I shudder, trying to erase the memory of his touch.

I strain to listen for any sound, any sign that Dante has arrived. My body is wound so tight, every muscle tensed and ready to bolt. The silence stretches on, thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. And then—footsteps. Slow, deliberate, ascending the stairs with a sense of purpose that makes my heart lurch.

I press myself harder against the door, my entire body shaking. Is it him? Or is it Enzo?

The footsteps stop just outside the door, and for a brief, terrifying moment, all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart. Then, there's a knock—a soft, controlled knock—and a voice that cuts through the darkness like a lifeline.

"Sienna," Dante's voice calls through the door, steady but tinged with an edge of urgency. "It's me. Open the door."

I freeze, my hand hovering over the lock but unable to move. My mind races, still gripped by the fear that this is all a cruel trick, that Enzo is waiting just beyond the door, ready to pounce the moment I let my guard down. I stay where I am, my fingers trembling on the handle.

There's another knock, gentler this time. "Little Flame," Dante says, softer now, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a dark promise. "I'm here. You're safe. Please, open the door."

His voice—the way he says my name, the way he calls me Little Flame—it's enough to break through the haze of fear clouding my mind. I don't know how, but I trust him. Slowly, shakily, I reach for the lock and twist it open, the metallic click echoing in the stillness.

The door creaks as I pull it back, and there he is. Dante. Standing in front of me, his presence filling the room like a storm barely contained. He's not dressed in his usual tailored suit, the one that projects power and control. Tonight, he's in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame. His knuckles are bloodied, his shirt splattered with flecks of red, but it's his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—that hold me in place.

They're searching me, scanning my body for any sign of injury, softening with relief when he sees I'm physically unharmed. But his face, hardened by the fight, is still fierce, protective.

For a moment, neither of us moves. I just stand there, staring at him, letting the reality of everything that's happened tonight sink in. Then, like the dam finally breaking, I stumble forward into his arms, collapsing against his chest as the tears I've been holding back finally spill over.

Dante catches me, pulling me into him, his arms strong and unyielding as they wrap around me. I bury my face in his chest, sobbing, my hands clutching at his shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. His scent—leather, sweat, and something darker—grounds me, the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside me.

"I couldn't stop him," I sob, my voice muffled against his chest. "He ripped my nightgown, Dante... He tried—he said I was his..."

His grip tightens around me, his entire body tensing as I feel the barely restrained fury radiating from him. "He won't touch you again," Dante murmurs, his voice low, laced with something dark and dangerous. "I promise you, Sienna. You're safe now."