Page 12 of Theirs to Rule

“Who told you he was engaged?” Dante said gently.

All the pain and emotion of the last twenty-four hours suddenly crashed over me like a tsunami. “First his mother, then his fiancée. Right before Kage’s mom kicked me out.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dante slid his arms around me, and I burst into tears. I clung to him. I couldn’t stop it. I just stood there in the hallway, crying in Dante’s arms for a long time until I realized Moira could come out any moment and see me. So could Daniella.

And I couldn’t let them see me like this.

“Let’s go.”

Dante pulled back with a frown. “Don’t let them drive you away. I know you want to stay with Kage.”

I shook my head. “I don’t. Not anymore. What’s the point? He’d just wake up and try to justify why he lied to me.”

When Dante still hesitated, I scowled and pulled away. “Are you going to take me home or should I call a ride?”

“Of course I’ll take you home, Peaches."

I closed my eyes. I love that nickname. Just like I’d loved Kage calling me Rebel. Now both were a reminder that they were just words meant to convey a familiarity and intimacy I couldn’t trust.

Then I remembered what Bianca said about the chateau possibly being bugged. I had absolutely no energy to search for cameras and mics right now, and even if I did, I couldn’t do it in front of Ty or Dante without alerting them that something was up. “No. I don’t want to go to the chateau. Can we go to your place instead?”

“Whatever you need, Peaches.”

Dante tried to hug me again. Even though it hurt me to do it, I stepped back. I couldn’t bear for him to touch me.

I couldn’t bear foranyoneto touch me right now.

I was a fool, and I deserved to be isolated. Alone. Miserable.

It hurt to know that I could only count on myself, but it was the stone-cold truth.

Chapter 6

Camille

The motorcycle ride to Dante’s house blurred by like the smeared streaks of city lights, my thoughts too loud to let me focus on anything else. Before I knew it, Dante was holding the door open, ushering me into his space like he was shielding me from the rest of the world.

“Can I fix you something to eat?” he asked, his voice low, steady. A counterbalance to the storm raging inside me.

I shook my head, my words feeling heavy. “I think I’d just like to lie down for a bit.”

His hand caught mine as I tried to slip past him. His grip was firm, grounding, but I didn’t look up. “I know you’re hurting, baby, but I’m here for you.”

I gave him a small nod, the effort to smile too great. He didn’t let go, guiding me to his bedroom instead of letting me retreat into my own head.

It was my first time seeing it. Like the rest of his house, it was clean and unassuming. Nothing out of place. Nothing overly personal. Except for the picture on the nightstand.

I froze, my gaze locking onto the framed photo of me. The scarf I was wearing in the picture was one I’d lost months ago, yet there it was, forever captured in the background of autumn leaves. My hair was windswept, my expression distant—like I hadn’t even known the camera was there.

“Does the picture make you uncomfortable?” Dante’s voice broke the silence.

“Does it even matter?” My voice sounded foreign to my ears, hollow and worn.

He stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening. “Of course it matters.”

I wanted to believe him. He didn’t deserve this—this coldness, this doubt. But trust wasn’t something I could give anyone right now. I glanced back at the photo, and my gaze fell on the small stone resting beside it.

“Citrine,” I murmured, picking it up. The reddish-orange surface caught the light, warm but solid in my hand. “For abundance.” My lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Too bad we don’t get to pick whether it’s an abundance of good or bad.”

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