Owned by the devil I didn't choose

I didn't leave.

But I didn't stay the same either.

In the days that followed the Devil's Ball, a quiet rebellion bloomed in me—slow and poisonous like ink in water.

Dante thought I was still at his side. And maybe I was. But no longer beneath his shadow.

Now, I stood just behind him, studying the way he moved, the cracks in his control, the enemies he didn't see because he'd never expected betrayal from within.

I wasn't just his girl anymore.

I was a weapon of my own making.

And the first thing I needed—was information.

---

Mirella noticed the shift before anyone else.

"You're not afraid of him anymore," she said as she handed me a dagger during morning training.

I twirled it once in my fingers, then slashed forward with a precision I hadn't had weeks ago. "No."

"Good," she said, stepping back. "Because fear makes you predictable."

"And power makes you a target."

"You already are, sweetheart."

She wasn't wrong.

Ever since the ball, people looked at me differently—Vico, the guards, even the twins.

No one called me pet behind closed doors anymore.

Now they watched me with curiosity. Wariness. Like they were waiting to see if I'd be the empire's Queen… or its fire.

---

I started watching Dante more closely too.

Every meeting. Every deal. Every word he didn't say.

I tracked the movement of money through his docks. Noticed the sudden silences in conversations when I entered. Paid attention to who hesitated when asked to speak in front of me.

And in the middle of all of it—Liang.

The man who nearly owned me.

He hadn't reached out since the ball.

But his silence was louder than any threat.

Which is why I wasn't surprised when a note appeared on my pillow three days later.

No envelope. No signature.

Just a phrase written in red ink.

> You were never meant to be his shadow. You were meant to replace it.

---

I didn't tell Dante about the note.

Instead, I burned it.

And then I started forming a list.

People loyal to Dante. People pretending. People willing to bet on someone new.

And at the bottom of the list—I wrote one name.

Lucien Black.

I'd heard it twice now. Once from Rivera. Once from Salvatore.

Whispers about a man who used to run with Dante before the blood war. A ghost with loyalty to no one and access to every dirty secret buried under this city.

I needed to find him.

But I had to be careful.

Because if Dante ever saw me looking for allies outside of him…

He'd make me disappear before anyone could say goodbye.

---

That night, I stood on the balcony alone.

The city was quiet beneath the stars, but my mind was loud.

I heard Dante's footsteps before I saw him.

He didn't say anything.

He just stood beside me, watching the same horizon.

After a while, he finally spoke.

"You haven't asked for the collar back."

"No," I said.

"Do you want it?"

I turned to look at him. "Would it matter if I did?"

He met my gaze. "Yes."

I waited.

But he didn't elaborate.

So I answered for both of us.

"I'm never wearing it again."

His jaw clenched. But he nodded. "I know."

---

The silence between us now was no longer filled with longing or mystery.

It was filled with strategy.

He still watched me sleep sometimes.

But now I wondered if he was trying to figure out whether he'd made a mistake letting me live.

Or whether I was the next king in line.

We were no longer predator and prey.

We were something worse.

Rivals in the same war… forced to share a bed.

---

The next morning, I left before sunrise.

Alone.

No driver. No permission.

Just a black hoodie, combat boots, and a flash drive in my bra.

I went to a place I remembered from Celeste's file—the old bar she used to visit before her death. A place tied to a name: Lucien Black.

The bar was hidden beneath a crumbling train station, disguised as a closed-down jazz club.

Inside, it smelled like whiskey, smoke, and sin.

I walked in like I'd been coming there for years.

And the bartender—an old man with clouded eyes and a voice like gravel—nodded once and said:

"You're late."

---

I froze. "Excuse me?"

He reached under the bar, pulled out a manila envelope, and slid it toward me.

"He said you'd come."

"Lucien?"

The man smiled. "He's watching. Always is."

I looked down at the envelope, heart racing. The weight of the paper felt heavier than it should.

I opened it.

Inside were photos. Dozens of them.

Dante. Liang. Salvatore. Every major player in the city. Some alone. Some whispering to each other in alleyways. Some bleeding.

And one—

Of me.

Taken the night Dante bought me.

I was in the red dress, shoulders stiff, eyes wide.

Alone in the auction house corridor.

---

He'd been watching since the beginning.

Lucien Black wasn't just a ghost.

He was a collector of truths.

And I was his newest subject.

A phone number was written at the bottom of the envelope.

No name. Just digits.

I memorized it, then slid the paper into my boot.

As I turned to leave, the bartender said one last thing.

"Be careful, girl."

"Why?"

"Because the last person Lucien helped?"

I waited.

"He ended up buried in two graves. One for the body. One for the lies."

---

When I returned to the penthouse, Dante was waiting.

Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.

"You disappeared," he said.

"Needed air."

"That bar," he said flatly. "Don't lie."

Of course he knew.

"You spying on me now?"

He stepped closer. "No. I'm protecting you."

"From who? The people who want to free me?"

He grabbed my wrist, not hard—just enough.

His voice dropped.

"You think they want to free you, Aria? No. They want to use you. Just like I did."

His honesty stunned me.

But I didn't pull away.

"Then maybe I should let them," I whispered.

His fingers trembled for half a second.

Then he released me.

---

"I won't stop you," he said. "But if you go to them—really go—I'll treat you like them."

"As in?"

"As in an enemy."

His words hit like glass to the ribs.

I nodded slowly.

"Understood."

And then I turned away, walked to my room, and locked the door behind me.

But I didn't cry.

I didn't even flinch.

Because for the first time in this twisted kingdom…

I wasn't anyone's.

Not even his.

---

Later that night, I lit a candle in the corner of my room.

I placed the collar he gave me inside a black box.

And I carved one word into the lid with the tip of my blade.

Never.