Dante’s POV

The weight of her head against my chest felt heavier than anything I’d ever carried on my shoulders in the outside world. Alina wasn’t just resting—she was surrendering, finally letting go of the fight she had been clinging to for so long. And I knew, without her saying a word, how much that cost her.

Her tears had soaked into my shirt, but I didn’t move. I didn’t care about the damp fabric clinging to my skin. All I cared about was the way her body seemed to melt into mine, fragile and strong at the same time, like porcelain held together with fire.

I tilted my head...