Alina’s POV

I couldn’t get the sound out of my head—the sharp echo of Dante’s fists landing, the hollow rattle of chains, the strangled cries Barry made that didn’t even sound human anymore. My body shook, but I couldn’t tell if it was fear, rage, or the kind of grief that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

And still, Dante stood there like marble carved into the shape of a man, his breathing calm, his hands only faintly red as though the violence hadn’t touched him at all. He looked at me as if he was waiting for something. As if I was supposed to fall to...