Dante’s POV

The first light of dawn painted the room in a muted gold, seeping through the thin curtains I hadn’t bothered to close last night. Alina’s breathing was steady against my chest, soft and even, her body curled into mine as though she belonged there and nowhere else.

I hadn’t slept. Not really. My eyes had shut a few times, but my mind refused to rest. It wasn’t Barry this time—it was her. The way she’d clung to me, the way she’d broken apart in my arms only to stitch herself back together with every kiss, every whispered word.

She was exhausted. Not just tired—exhausted to the bone. And...