(Dante’s POV)

The first thing I felt was pain.

Not sharp, not sudden—just deep, relentless pain pulsing through every inch of me. The kind that drags you back from the edge, reminding you that you’re still alive when maybe you shouldn’t be.

My body was heavy. My mouth was dry. Every breath tasted of blood and smoke.

Then came the voice.

“Dante…”

Soft. Trembling. Familiar.

My eyes fluttered open. The light burned at first—too bright, too clean—but then I saw her. Isabella.

She sat beside me, her face pale and streaked with exhaustion, hair tangled, a thin cut running across her cheek. But she was there. Real. Alive.

For a...