We were still on the floor.
My head on his chest.
His breath finally slowing.
The room smelled like sex and sin and my lipstick was all over his throat.
Then the buzzer rang.
Once.
Twice.
He didn't move.
Didn't need to.
Because I sat up the second I heard the voice.
Cassian.
Outside.
No yelling. No threats. Dante froze. Still buried in me. Still hard. Still fucking smirking.
Then— Another knock. Just one.
"Open the door."
Dante didn't blink.
"You expecting someone?"
I stood, pulled down my dress, hands shaking.
"Shit. Shit. Shit."
Dante just leaned back against the couch, bare chest on display, lips curled like this was a game and he was two moves ahead.
"Should I let him in?"
"Don't you fucking dare."
But he was already walking. Already unlocking. Already turning the knob like this was his show now.
The door opened. And there he was. Cassian Vale. Tailored. Dead calm.
And murder behind his eyes.
Cassian didn't speak. He stepped inside like he owned the fucking place, not caring that he didn't. Like doors were just suggestions and personal boundaries something meant to be broken.
His eyes scanned the room. The faint red marks that climbed down my throat like proof I couldn't scrub away. Then he looked at Dante. Topless. Smirking. Alive.
That made something flicker in Cassian's jaw—just for a second.
"Lexa," he said, like my name was the beginning of a sentence he didn't want to finish.
"Get your things."
I didn't move. This wasn't about me anymore. It was about them.
Dante didn't stand back. He didn't apologize. He just tilted his head and stepped closer to Cassian, not aggressive—just deliberate. The way men do when they're not here to fight, but to warn.
"I don't recall inviting you."
Cassian gave a dry laugh. One that didn't reach his eyes.
"You fuck her once in an alley and think she's yours?"
"No," Dante replied, his voice low and sharp. "I fuck her right. That's the difference."
The room cracked. No punches. No shouting. Not yet. Just tension so thick, it had teeth.
I could feel it in my chest, coiling. Heavy and feral. A heartbeat too fast. A breath too loud. I wasn't sure if I should scream, or beg, or run.
"She's not a prize, and she has a fucking name," I said finally, voice thin, barely mine.
But neither of them looked at me.
Because in this moment, I wasn't a person. I was a battlefield.
Dante stepped even closer to Cassian. The space between them gone now. Breaths mingling. No fear. No backpedal.
"You want to claim her?" Dante asked, lips curling. "Then do it the way men like us do."
Cassian didn't blink.
"I already have."
His eyes slid to me then. Cold. Knowing. And filled with something far worse than anger:
Strategy.
"Let's go, Lexa."
But Dante answered for me.
"She's not done here."
A pause.
A long, impossible, unbearable pause.
Then Cassian smiled.
And it was the kind of smile that promised revenge, not resolution.
"Enjoy your night," he said quietly. "It's the last time you'll taste her without paying for it."
Then he left. No slamming doors. No broken glass. No more words. Just that terrifying, surgical silence he carried like a weapon. And me? I was still frozen. Naked under a dress that smelled like sex, secrets and war.