Sleep doesn't come, of course. I lie there, staring at the stone ceiling for what feels like hours, trying to quiet my mind, but every time I close my eyes, I see their faces—the rogues, bloodthirsty and savage, closing in on me. And then there are the other faces, the ones that confuse me more: Dante's stern but protective gaze, Lila's gentle concern, Nikolai's maddening, carefree grin. I can't stop thinking about what they are and what they want from me.

I'm not sure I trust them, but I have no choice right now. They're my only lifeline in this world I never wanted to be part of.

Eventually, I give up on trying to sleep. The small underground room is eerily quiet, only the faint sound of water dripping from somewhere deeper in the tunnels. The lanterns flicker, casting long shadows across the rough stone walls. Lila had said we were safe here, that the rogues wouldn't find us, but I can't shake the feeling that time is running out.

I push myself up from the cot, careful not to disturb the others. Lila is seated in a chair by the door, her eyes half-closed but alert. Nikolai lounges in the corner, his feet up on the table, pretending to sleep, though I can tell from the way his eyes shift under his lids that he's wide awake. Dante is nowhere in sight.

My nerves are on edge, every sound amplified in the quiet, but I need to move, to do something—anything—other than sit and wait for the next disaster to hit. I step quietly toward the door, my shoes making soft scuffs on the stone floor. Lila's eyes flick open as I approach, and she sits up, watching me curiously.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No," I admit, shaking my head. "Too much to think about."

She nods, understanding in her eyes. "I don't blame you. It's a lot to process."

"I just… I need some air. Is that even possible down here?" I ask, managing a weak smile.

Lila stands, stretching her arms. "There's a passageway that leads out to an older part of the city's underground. It's not exactly fresh air, but it's quiet. Dante's out there keeping watch."

I hesitate for a moment. Dante. I'm not sure how I feel about him yet. He's strong, protective, but distant—like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and won't let anyone help bear the burden. Still, I find myself curious. There's something about him that draws me in, even if I can't fully understand it.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Lila offers.

I shake my head. "No, I'll be fine. I just need to clear my head."

She gives me a small smile and steps aside, allowing me to slip out the door. The corridor beyond is just as cold and dark as the room we've been hiding in, but there's a stillness to it that I find strangely calming. I walk slowly, following the faint sound of footsteps until I reach a small, open chamber.

Dante is there, standing near the entrance to one of the tunnels, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the shadows. He doesn't look at me when I approach, but somehow, I know he senses me. He seems to know exactly where I am, like he's attuned to every movement I make.

"You should be resting," he says, his voice low and even.

"I couldn't," I reply, stepping up beside him. "Too much going on in my head."

He glances at me, his expression unreadable. "I know how that feels."

For a while, we just stand there in silence, the faint dripping of water the only sound in the tunnel. I can feel the weight of the unspoken tension between us—questions I haven't asked, things he hasn't explained. But I don't know how to start. I'm not even sure what I want to ask.

I take a deep breath, stepping closer to Dante. The tension between us feels like a thick wall, and I can't stand it anymore. I need answers, even if I'm afraid of what they might be.

"Why me?" I ask, my voice breaking the silence between us. "Why are you risking your lives to protect me?"

Dante's eyes flick to mine, holding my gaze for a moment longer than usual. He pauses, like he's weighing how much he's willing to say. "You don't understand how important you are, Olivia. You've uncovered too much, and that makes you dangerous—to the rogues, to us… to everyone. But it's more than that."

More than that? I frown, taking a step back. I've heard the same vague answers before, but none of it makes sense. I'm not special. I'm just a human. "More than that? How? I'm just a human. I don't have powers, I'm not… special."

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, his gaze shifts away briefly before locking back onto mine, his voice softer but no less firm. "You're connected to this world in ways you can't see yet. And not just because of what you've uncovered. We were watching you for a reason."

A reason. Always a reason. But no one will explain what that reason is. Frustration bubbles up inside me, and I can't keep the edge out of my voice. "What reason? You keep saying that, but no one will explain it! Why won't you just tell me the truth?"

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Dante's jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he's going to brush me off again. But instead, he lets out a slow, heavy breath, his expression softening just a fraction. "Because the truth is… not as simple as you think. There are forces at play here that even we don't fully understand. And until we do… some things are better left unsaid."

Better left unsaid. He's keeping things from me on purpose. How am I supposed to trust him—or any of them—if they won't tell me what's going on? I step closer, not willing to let this go. "Better left unsaid? How is leaving me in the dark helping? How am I supposed to trust any of you if you keep hiding things from me?"

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think I've pushed too far. But then he looks at me—really looks at me—and his voice drops, low and serious. "It's not about trust, Olivia. It's about protecting you—whether you like it or not. There's more at stake here than you know. And once you learn the truth… there's no going back."

I freeze, my mind racing to make sense of his words.

Going back?

"Going back?" I echo, my voice quiet, unsure. "Going back to what?"

Dante's expression hardens, his voice lowering even more, almost as if he's speaking more to himself than to me. "To who you think you are."

My chest tightens. "To who I think I am"? What does that even mean? The knot of confusion tightens in my stomach, and I can't take it anymore. I need him to stop with the half-answers. "What does that mean? Dante, just tell me."

His eyes flash, his voice sharper now, cutting through the space between us. "It means you need to be careful. The rogues aren't the only ones with an interest in you. And if they find out what I suspect about you…" He trails off, his gaze shifting away, the words hanging in the air like a threat.

Find out what he suspects about me? My heart pounds in my chest, and I can feel the frustration boiling over. "Find out what? What aren't you telling me?"

There's a long pause. I can see him wrestling with something inside, but he won't let me in. He won't let me see whatever it is he's hiding. When he finally speaks again, his voice is quieter, resigned. "Some truths are more dangerous than the lies we've told you."

I stand there, staring at him, my mind spinning. More dangerous than the lies? What kind of truth could be that dangerous?

Before I can push further, argue for my agency, there's a sudden noise from the tunnel—a sharp, scraping sound like metal against stone. Dante's entire posture shifts, going rigid in an instant. His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind him, his body tense and alert.

"Stay back," he says, his voice low and deadly.

I press myself against the wall, my heart racing. I can hear the sound getting closer now, the faint scuffling of footsteps. I strain to see into the darkness, but it's too thick, too impenetrable. My stomach twists with dread.

Then, out of the shadows, a figure steps into the faint light of the chamber.

It's a woman—tall, with dark hair and striking features. She moves with the same fluid grace as Dante, her eyes scanning the room with a sharp, calculating gaze. She's not human. I can sense it immediately.

Dante's entire posture stiffened the second the woman stepped out of the shadows. I saw the flicker of tension in his body—a momentary stillness, the kind that comes before a storm. His eyes narrowed, and though his expression remained cold and controlled, there was something else there—something I couldn't quite name.

"You're not welcome here, Selene," he said, his voice steady but tight, like he was gripping onto control with both hands.

Selene's lips curled into a slow, mocking smile, her eyes scanning Dante with the kind of amusement that made my skin crawl. "Oh, Dante. Always so quick to put up walls. Afraid I'll knock them down again?"

Dante's jaw tightens. "This isn't the time for your games."

Her eyes flicker to me, widening slightly, as though confirming something. "Ah, so this is the girl. The one everyone's talking about."

"What do you want?" I demand, my voice betraying my fear.

She steps closer, her eyes glinting in the dim light, ignoring me as if I were inconsequential. "What then, Dante? Formalities? Time to catch up?"

She moves toward Dante, her steps slow, deliberate. For a moment, I think I see something flicker in his eyes—fear, maybe, or regret—but it's gone too quickly for me to be sure. He pushes me further behind him.

"You're still so predictable, Dante," Selene mused, her voice soft but dangerous. "Always so desperate to protect. But we both know how well that worked out last time, don't we?"

Dante's eyes flashed with something—anger, maybe. Or was it guilt? He stood taller, every muscle in his body rigid, but he said nothing.

"You think she'll follow you after she know the truth?" she whispered, stepping closer. Her voice was like silk, sliding through the air and wrapping around us both. "You think you can still lead, after everything you've done?"

Dante doesn't flinch, but the tension in the room is suffocating. "I won't let you near her."

Selene's smile fades, replaced by something darker. "Still holding onto that old guilt, I see. Haven't learned your lesson, have you?"

Selene's smile widened as she crossed her arms, studying Dante like he was an old riddle she already knew the answer to. "You know, if you had just listened to me back then, none of this would've happened."

Dante didn't flinch, but I saw the shift—the slight tremor in his fingers before he balled them into fists. His gaze darkened, but his voice remained cold. "I'm not making that mistake again."

"You always were too sentimental," Selene sighed, running a finger along the edge of the tunnel wall as though she had all the time in the world. "That's what made you weak, you know. You let them in."

Dante's eyes flickered with something—regret? Shame? But before I could decipher it, he straightened, his voice hardening. "I'm not the same person I was then."

Selene raised an eyebrow, her smile cold. "No, you're not. But that doesn't mean you won't fall again." She leans forward with a sickening grin. "You still haven't forgiven yourself, have you?"

Selene's voice dripped with amusement, though there was something darker beneath the surface, like a knife hidden behind a smile.

Dante's jaw tightened. "This isn't about the past."

"Isn't it?" she asked, taking a step closer. "You think you can outrun it, Dante? That your shiny new pet project will make you forget?"

I watched the exchange in silence, a strange feeling settling in my gut. It was as if they were talking about more than just me—about something old, something deep, that I wasn't privy to.

For a moment, I don't breathe. It's like they're talking about something more than just me—something old, something deeper. Selene's eyes flick toward me again, and I can see the satisfaction in them, like she's found a weakness.

She takes a step back, her smile returning.

"You're not taking her," Dante repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

Selene's laugh echoes through the chamber, sharp and mocking. "You really think you can stop me, Dante? I'm not here for a fight. Not yet."

"What do you want?" I ask, trembling, finally finding my voice.

Her gaze locks onto mine again, and for a split second, something flashes in her eyes—something dark, something dangerous. "You'll find out soon enough, little human," she says, her voice like silk. "Soon enough."

And with that, she turns, melting back into the shadows as quickly as she appeared, leaving only the sound of her laughter lingering in the air.

I stand there, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of her words pressing down on me. Whoever she is, whatever she wants… it's not over.

Not even close.