Chapter 15

Alina POV

The night after the blow-up with Dante felt like it lasted a year.

I’d fallen asleep in my clothes, half-curled on the far edge of the bed, my hand throbbing from gripping that stupid shard of metal. Dante hadn’t said a word after my last scream—just sat there, watching me, like he was waiting for me to run out of fuel. Eventually, I had. I hated that he looked so calm while I felt like my veins were on fire.

When morning came, I needed air that didn’t taste like arguments.

The shower was too hot, almost scalding, but I stayed under it until my skin...