The Devil: Dinner

Dante sat at the head of the long dining table, fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey. The golden liquid swirled as he watched the door, waiting.

When Luna finally entered, her steps were hesitant, almost reluctant. She wore the same clothes as before, still looking out of place in the opulence surrounding her. Her eyes flickered to the extravagant dishes on the table, but she made no move to sit.

Dante sighed. "Sit."

She obeyed immediately, folding her hands in her lap.

The servants placed food in front of her—richer, more elegant than anything she had likely ever eaten. She stared at it but didn't touch it.

Dante leaned forward slightly, setting his glass down. "Eat."

She hesitated before picking up her fork, moving with careful precision. Even the way she ate was cautious, as if she feared doing something wrong.

He hated it.

"You haven't spoken a word since you arrived," he noted, watching her closely.

Luna's fingers tensed around her fork. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Dante let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "You don't know what to say, or you're afraid to say the wrong thing?"

She swallowed, but again, she didn't answer.

Smart girl.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head as he regarded her. "Let's make something clear, Luna. You are here because your stepfather was a desperate, pathetic excuse for a man who owed me a debt. Instead of taking his life, I took you." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Consider yourself lucky."

Her hands clenched in her lap.

Dante continued, his voice smooth but firm. "I don't expect much from you. You will stay here, you will obey my rules, and you will not try to run. If you do, I will drag you back myself, and trust me, you won't like what happens next."

Luna inhaled sharply but nodded, her eyes fixed on her plate.

Dante studied her reaction carefully. "No locked doors in my house. If I call for you, you come. And if I ever catch you lying, there will be consequences. Understood?"

She nodded again.

Dante watched her for a long moment. "Speak."

Luna hesitated, then whispered, "What... what do you expect of me?"

A bold question, coming from someone so afraid.

Dante smirked slightly. "For now? Just stay out of my way."

She lowered her gaze, nodding slightly.

Dante picked up his glass, watching as she slowly returned to her meal, taking small, careful bites as if afraid the food itself might turn against her.

She was different. Quiet, not in a calculating way, but in a way that was simply... Broken.

Dante had seen a lot of things in his life. Women who begged, women who fought, women who tried to manipulate their way out of bad situations.

Luna did none of those things.

And that, more than anything, made her dangerous.

Because people like her?

They learned to survive.

Or they shattered beyond repair.

And for some reason, Dante wasn't sure which one she would become.

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