Dante paced the tiled floor of the underground training room.

The sharp sound of his boots echoed in the vast, dimly lit space.

The air smelled faintly of leather and metal.

The remnants of countless sparring sessions and weapons being cleaned.

This was where his men honed their skills, a stark, utilitarian arena carved into the bones of the estate.

He hadn’t planned on coming down here tonight, but after the day he’d had, he needed to be anywhere that didn’t remind him of her.

Yet, she haunted him here too.

His black shirt clung to his broad shoulders, damp from the sweat of a workout he hadn’t finished.

He...