The stench of disinfectant hung heavy in the air, a sharp contrast to the rundown state of the hospital.

Dante’s sharp gaze flicked over the peeling paint on the walls and the worn linoleum floor that creaked under his polished shoes.

He clenched his jaw, his fists flexing at his sides as he resisted the urge to grab the nurse by her collar and demand that she move faster.

Annabelle stood beside him, her back straight and her voice calm as she spoke to the nurse, but he could see the strain etched into her features.

Her green eyes, normally so vibrant, were dulled by worry.

She didn’t meet his...