Chapter 7 The Cost of Defiance

Alina didn't flinch.

Dante towered over her, his dark eyes locked onto hers, sharp as a blade. Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken threats.

She had pushed her plate away, a silent act of rebellion. And he had noticed.

His smirk was slow, dangerous. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

Alina held his gaze. "I'm not some doll you can control, Dante."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, almost like he was amused. Almost. Then, with unnerving calm, he picked up the plate and placed it back in front of her.

"Eat," he said again.

Alina's pulse pounded. He wasn't yelling, wasn't throwing threats-but that quiet, measured tone was worse.

She reached for the fork, gripping it tightly. But instead of eating, she pushed the plate away again.

A challenge.

A test.

Dante stilled. His fingers drummed against the polished wood of the table. Then, with slow precision, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the surface.

"Do you think you can win this?" His voice was deceptively calm.

Alina lifted her chin. "I don't need to win. I just won't lose myself to you."

A flicker of something passed through his gaze-irritation, curiosity, something else she couldn't quite name.

Then, suddenly, he laughed. A low, dark sound that sent shivers down her spine.

"You have fire," he mused. "Most people break the moment they step into my world."

Alina's stomach twisted, but she refused to let it show.

"I'm not most people."

Dante leaned back, studying her. For a long moment, he said nothing, and she wondered if she had pushed too far.

Then, he rose from his seat. "Suit yourself," he said smoothly. "Starve if you want to. But don't expect mercy when you're too weak to stand."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Alina alone with the untouched plate of food.

Her hands trembled slightly as she exhaled, her heart still racing.

She had won this round.

But Dante Valenti was a man who never truly lost.

And that terrified her more than anything.