Owned by the devil I didn't choose

The invitation came in a black envelope sealed with crimson wax.

No name. No address. Just a serpent carved into the seal, its fangs dripping onto the edge of the paper.

Dante turned it over twice in his hand before breaking the seal. He didn't speak. He didn't react. He just read the short, blood-inked note and then slid it across the table to me without a word.

I picked it up.

> To the Devil and his Girl.

Come dressed in shadow. Masks are required. Weapons optional.

– L.

I looked up at him. "Liang."

Dante nodded once, slowly. "His invitations are never casual. If he asks you to dance, it's to find out where your blade is hidden."

"Will I need it?"

He met my eyes. "You'll need something sharper than that."

---

The dress arrived hours later.

It wasn't sent by Dante this time—but by Liang himself.

A silk black gown, backless and high-slit, with a deep red mask lined in gold. A pair of black gloves that reached up past my elbows. And a note pinned to the hem of the fabric:

> Wear this so I know where to aim when the music stops.

Charming.

I didn't show Dante the note.

Instead, I stood before the mirror in the penthouse's west wing bedroom, watching as Mirella helped zip me in.

"It's a game to them," she said under her breath. "You're both the distraction and the test."

"I'm getting used to being both."

"No, girl," she corrected, looking me straight in the eye. "You're not the test anymore. You're the variable."

I didn't respond. But her words stayed with me.

---

The masquerade ball was held in an abandoned cathedral outside the city.

No cameras. No press. Only guests handpicked from the five families and a few foreign syndicates, all masked in velvet and bone, feather and fire.

The cathedral's stained glass was shattered. The candles that lit the aisles were real—tall, flickering, dripping wax like blood down their metal holders. Strings of violins played melodies too elegant for the crimes committed beneath them.

I stepped inside beside Dante, masked and poised, my heels echoing like gunshots against the marble floor.

The Devil and his Girl.

That's what they called us now.

And every set of hidden eyes turned to watch.

---

The heads of the five families stood near the altar-turned-bar. Liang, of course, at the center—dressed in black and crimson, a dragon pin on his collar, mask shaped like a skull with gold teeth.

He raised a glass when he saw me.

"Your leash looks shorter tonight," he said as we approached. "Or is it gone entirely?"

"She stays because she wants to," Dante answered.

Liang looked at me, eyes dancing. "Do you?"

"I stay because no one else here would survive me if I left," I replied sweetly, sipping my champagne.

The Benedetti twins chuckled.

Rivera's lips twitched.

Even Liang tilted his head, amused.

"She's learning," he said to Dante. "Soon she'll outtalk you."

"She already does," Dante murmured.

---

The night unfolded with shadow and spectacle.

Women danced in blood-red gowns, men whispered deals behind feathered masks, and somewhere in the chaos, someone was always watching.

I stayed near Dante at first, noting how he moved. How he rarely turned his back to anyone. How every smile he gave was laced with poison.

But eventually, he drifted into a private corridor with Rivera, and I was left alone again, surrounded by strangers in masks and enemies in tailored suits.

That's when I felt it.

A hand brushing my bare back. Too soft. Too familiar.

I turned sharply.

It was one of the Benedetti twins—Marco. His mask was gold and bird-like, and his eyes gleamed with something wicked.

"You clean up well, little flame," he said, lifting a glass to me.

"You're touching fire," I warned.

"Isn't that the point of coming to hell?"

I stepped back, but he followed.

"I heard what you did to Celeste," he whispered, smile crooked. "Was it true? Did you really shatter her face with a wine glass before Dante put a bullet in her?"

I didn't answer.

I just smiled.

Then leaned in. "Come closer, and I'll let you find out what I can do with a blade strapped to my thigh."

---

He laughed and backed away, hands up in mock surrender.

But the attention had drawn more eyes to me.

And not all of them were amused.

I moved to the edge of the dance floor, where a woman in a crimson mask passed me a folded note on a silver tray. No words. Just a glance, and then she vanished.

I unfolded the paper.

> The Devil lies to you. Come to the bell tower. Find the truth before it finds you.

My blood ran cold.

Was it a trap?

Probably.

But if it wasn't…

I slid the note into my glove and disappeared into the shadows of the cathedral, slipping away from the crowd.

---

The stairs to the bell tower creaked beneath me like brittle bones.

Dust clouded the air with every step. The music from the masquerade below faded into something distant and eerie—just the haunting throb of a cello echoing through the cathedral's stone ribs.

Whoever sent that note… they were watching me. They knew how to lure me.

And yet, I followed.

Not because I trusted them.

Because I needed to know what Dante wasn't telling me.

---

The tower narrowed the higher I climbed, walls tight and cold. A small iron door waited at the top, slightly ajar. Moonlight filtered through the opening like a blade.

I pushed the door open with my gloved hand and stepped inside.

It was empty.

Or so I thought.

Then she stepped out from behind the shadows.

Young. Maybe seventeen. Skin like mine. Eyes like memory.

She wasn't masked.

She wasn't armed.

And she wasn't afraid of me.

"You came," she said softly.

"Who are you?" I asked.

She smiled faintly. "Someone who used to sit where you sit now. Dante's girl."

My chest tightened.

---

"You're lying," I said.

"I wish I was."

She stepped forward slowly, showing me a faded scar that ran from her collarbone to her hip. "Do you think you're the first he's trained? The first he's tried to mold into something deadly?"

"No one mentioned you."

"Because no one survived me long enough to remember."

My breath hitched.

She was so calm. So still. A ghost wrapped in silk and sorrow.

"I escaped three years ago," she said. "But I never forgot what it was like—to think you mattered to a man who only sees you as a knife to sharpen."

I shook my head. "He saved me."

"No," she said gently. "He gave you purpose so you wouldn't notice your cage."

---

I backed away.

"You came here to lie."

"No," she said. "I came to warn you."

"Why now?"

"Because you're the first one he's ever taken to a Devil's Ball," she whispered. "And that only happens when he's planning to trade you."

My stomach dropped. "Trade me?"

Her eyes dimmed. "As part of a deal. A peace offering. A price."

"No. He—he told me—"

"He told you nothing," she said. "Just like he told me nothing… until I overheard the deal myself. Liang gets you in exchange for territory on the west docks. He'll make it look like you ran. Or died."

"No—he wouldn't—"

"He would," she whispered. "And he will."

---

I didn't want to believe her.

I couldn't.

But deep inside, something cracked.

A memory surfaced—Dante's hands unclasping my collar. His stare too heavy. That strange silence in his office after Liang said, "For now."

The puzzle pieces weren't clicking yet—but they were there.

She reached into her glove and handed me a flash drive.

"Take it," she said. "What's on it will show you the truth."

I hesitated.

"If I'm wrong," she said, "you'll have proof. If I'm right… you'll have a head start before they come for you."

I took it.

She vanished into the shadows before I could ask anything else.

---

I didn't rush back to the party.

I stood in the bell tower for minutes—maybe longer—letting the cold wind hit my face while everything I thought I knew twisted in my hands like smoke.

If she was lying, she was good.

If she was telling the truth… I was already surrounded.

I slipped the flash drive into the side of my glove and descended the tower, each step heavier than the last.

When I returned to the ballroom, Dante was standing near the altar again—his mask slightly tilted, drink untouched.

He saw me immediately.

His eyes scanned my face, then the crowd behind me.

"What happened?" he asked, stepping forward.

"Nothing," I lied. "Just air. Needed to breathe."

---

He studied me.

I didn't flinch.

But something in him flickered—something I hadn't seen before.

Doubt.

"Come," he said. "The Benedetti twins want to propose a new alliance."

I nodded, slipping my arm through his.

But inside, my heartbeat was a hammer.

Because now… I didn't know if I was walking beside my protector or my executioner.

---

Back at the penthouse, I waited until the staff had disappeared and Dante had retreated to his office, the door closing with a soft click.

I moved fast.

I took the flash drive from my glove and slid it into the port of the hidden laptop Mirella had taught me to access. No passwords. No questions. Just the whir of a machine quietly waking from sleep.

One folder.

Labeled: PROPERTY 19 – FINAL TERMS

My stomach twisted.

I clicked.

---

Inside were six documents.

The first was a contract—unsigned but dated just three days ago. The terms were blunt, clinical.

> In exchange for full control of the West Dock narcotics route, Dante Moretti agrees to transfer possession of Asset 19 (code-named Aria) to Liang for a probationary term of six months, renewable by silent agreement. During this time, all previous claims to said asset are nullified unless the asset is declared dead or untraceable.

Beneath it—audio files.

I hesitated… and clicked play.

Dante's voice filled the room, calm and cold.

> "She'll go willingly. Liang won't have to use force."

"And if she doesn't?" another voice—Salvatore's, I think.

"Then I'll make it look like she ran."

My chest went hollow.

Another clip.

> "Are you sure she's not too valuable?" Rivera asked.

"They're all valuable until they become liabilities," Dante answered.

The third file was shorter. Just Dante again.

> "It's not personal. It's power."

I sat back in the chair.

Staring.

Breathing like my lungs were full of glass.

---

He lied.

He planned this.

The collar hadn't been a gift—it was the final gesture before release. Before trade. Before betrayal.

I shut the laptop and stood.

Every inch of my skin burned.

But not from shame.

From fury.

---

I didn't go to his room.

I went to the armory.

It wasn't locked—Dante never believed anyone in his home would be stupid enough to cross him.

I pulled a dagger from the wall. Small. Sleek. The one Vico once told me was best for up-close silence.

Then I took the backup flash drive and tucked it beneath the neckline of my shirt.

And finally, I walked to his office.

---

He was sitting behind the desk, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, drink in hand, eyes locked on the view of the city.

The lights sparkled.

But he didn't shine tonight.

He looked like a man preparing for war.

He turned when I opened the door. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No," I said, stepping inside. "I had something to confirm."

He noticed the shift in my voice.

In my eyes.

His drink stopped halfway to his lips.

"What did you find?" he asked.

I placed the flash drive on the desk between us.

"You tell me."

---

Silence cracked the room like a whip.

He looked down at the drive, then back up at me.

"How long have you had it?" he asked quietly.

"Long enough to hear your voice tell the world I'm nothing but leverage."

His jaw flexed. "It wasn't what you think—"

"No," I cut in. "Don't you dare. You don't get to talk your way out of this."

"Aria—"

"You were going to give me to Liang."

His hands curled into fists. "It was to protect you."

I laughed—sharp, bitter. "No. It was to protect your power."

---

He stood, circling the desk slowly, carefully. "He threatened your life."

"So you sold me instead?"

"I had a plan."

"You always do," I said. "Except this time, I was the price."

We stood inches apart now.

No desk. No wall. Just breath and betrayal.

I lifted the dagger slowly between us—not threatening, just showing.

"I could kill you," I whispered.

His voice dropped.

"I know."

And then—

He stepped forward, pressing his chest to the blade.

Do it, his eyes said.

End it.

Burn it all.

---

But I didn't move.

I couldn't.

Because I hated him.

And I still needed him.

Not to save me.

But to finish what he started.

"You betrayed me," I said, voice shaking.

"Yes."

"And you still want me to stand beside you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

His answer was the softest thing I'd ever heard him say.

"Because I've never met anyone who makes me feel like I don't have to win alone."

---

I dropped the knife.

It clattered against the floor like thunder.

And I stepped back.

Tears burned at the edges of my eyes—but I wouldn't let them fall.

"This changes everything," I said.

He nodded.

"But you still need me."

Another nod.

"And I'll still walk beside you," I said coldly, "because you taught me how to survive your world."

His jaw tightened. "But?"

I stared him down.

"From now on, Dante… I'm not your girl."

He didn't move. Didn't flinch.

He just whispered, "I know."