The rain slapped against the windshield, turning the city into a blur of neon and darkness. Dante’s hand was warm in mine, his fingers laced with mine like an unbreakable tether. My chest still hammered from the alley, from the fight, from the way he had pulled me close despite everything. But there was no time to catch my breath.

“The Russians won’t forget,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “They won’t forgive. And they’ll be back tonight.”

I pressed closer to him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, the tension coiling in his muscles. My pulse surged, equal parts fear and something more primal. “Then we need to...