Alina’s POV

The next morning, the sun poured through the curtains like it had been waiting all night to scold me for sleeping in. My eyes burned from the lack of rest, but I forced myself upright. Dante was already up, showered, and annoyingly put together, sipping his coffee like some cover model who had no idea what exhaustion even felt like.

“Morning,” he said, voice smooth but laced with that quiet observation he always carried. His eyes flicked over me. “You look like you wrestled with the night itself.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “The night won.”

He chuckled and set his cup down, coming to help me to...