Page 126 of Made for Saints

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second, his jaw clenching as if he was battling some internal war.

"You're drunk. Let go of me, Dante.” I repeated pulling away from him, expecting him to hold on.

But then he released me, his hand falling away as I stepped back, the sudden absence of his touch leaving me unsteady.

I turned on my heel, my dress swishing around my ankles as I made my way off the dance floor. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum. The cool night air beckoned, a reprieve from the heat of his gaze and the storm brewing between us.

But I didn’t make it far. I could hear him almost huffingand puffing behind me as I sped my walking up a bit knowing deep down it was a fruitless task.

“Emilia,” Dante’s voice cut through the music, low and commanding, stopping me in my tracks. I didn’t turn around, didn’t dare meet his eyes, but I could feel him behind me, his presence a weight I couldn’t ignore.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he said, his tone laced with frustration.

I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I turned to face him. “What do you want from me, Dante?” I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “You can’t keep doing this—pulling me close, then pushing me away. Acting like you own me one minute and then treating me like I’m nothing the next.”

His dark eyes flashed, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to grab my arm. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low but edged with frustration. “I’m trying to stop this from spiraling out of control.”

“Stop what?” I scoffed, trying to pull my arm out of his grasp. “From spiraling into what, Dante? Because right now, it feels like you’re the one spinning out.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking beneath the shadow of stubble along his cheek.

“You won't tell me! You'll never trust me! I'm just a pawn in the mens games, do you not think I know that? Look at this fucking wedding Dante! The men selling us off for power. Control." I shot back, my voice rising despite the murmurs of the crowd around us. His hand gripping me with enough force to make me wince. I know bruises would be fresh by the end of this. “Stop treating me like I’m clueless. Stop shutting me out.”

His hand shot out again, gripping my arm with enough force to make me wince.

“You’re hurting me, Dante,” I hissed again, my voice trembling as his grip on my arm tightened. The shadows of the garden swallowed us whole, the murmurs of the wedding reception fading into a distant hum. The sharp edge of his jawwas illuminated by the faint glow of the moon, his dark eyes boring into mine with a ferocity that made my breath catch.

His grip loosened slightly, just enough to ease the sting but not enough to let me go. “Do you think I want to hurt you, Emilia?” he growled, his voice low and rough, like gravel scraping against steel. “Do you think I enjoy this?”

“Then let me go,” I shot back, my chest heaving as I tried to pull free. But he didn’t budge. His hand remained firm, his body a wall of tension and barely restrained fury.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. The admission hung between us, raw and unguarded, and for a moment, I saw it—the cracks in his armor, the storm raging behind his eyes. He wasn’t just angry. He was unraveling.

“Why not?” I demanded, my voice rising despite the lump forming in my throat. “Why can’t you just let me go, Dante? Why can’t you let me breathe?”

“Because I don’t know how to,” he snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. His hand dropped from my arm, leaving a phantom ache in its wake as he stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know how to let you go, Emilia. And it’s driving me fucking insane.”

The rawness in his voice stopped me cold. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears as I stared at him, unsure whether to scream at him or pull him closer. His confession was a double-edged sword, cutting through the anger and hurt that had been building between us, but leaving behind a vulnerability that terrified me.

“Dante…” I began, my voice softer now, but he cut me off with a sharp shake of his head.

“Do you know what it’s like?” he said, his tone quieter but no less intense. “To feel like you’re losing control? To know that every time you look at someone, every time you touch them, you’re putting them in danger?” He took a step closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You think this is about jealousy? About me being possessive? It’s not. It’s about keeping you alive, Emilia. It’s about protecting you from themonsters in my world—monsters who would tear you apart just to get to me.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me like a lead blanket. “I’m not afraid of you, Dante,” I said quietly, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. “I’m not afraid of your world.”

“You should be,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if you stay in it, it will destroy you. It will destroy us.”

“Then stop pushing me away,” I said, taking a step closer. “Stop treating me like I’m some fragile thing that’s going to break. I’m stronger than you think, Dante. I can handle this. I can handle you.”

His jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his sides as he stared at me, the battle raging behind his eyes clear as day. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said finally, his voice rough and strained. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Then show me,” I challenged, my chin lifting in defiance. “Stop shutting me out. Stop making decisions for me. If you want to protect me, fine. But don’t do it by treating me like I don’t matter.”

“You matter,” he snapped, his voice rising with a ferocity that made me flinch. “You matter more than you should. More than anything else in my life. And that’s the fucking problem.”

The confession hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. I stared at him, my heart pounding as his words echoed in my mind. More than anything else. He said it like it was a curse, like it was something he couldn’t control, and it terrified him.

“Dante,” I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled back as if my touch burned him.

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