Dawn’s first light seeped through the dense canopy, dappled and fragile, painting streaks of gold across the forest floor. The air was thick with mist and the scent of damp earth, but for Isabella, it carried something else: the lingering heat of Dante’s presence beside her. Even now, after hours of near-constant closeness, she felt it—the magnetic pull, the unyielding tension simmering beneath their every glance, touch, and shared breath.

She moved slightly, careful not to disturb him, but the friction of her shoulder against his arm made him shift, muscles flexing with barely restrained awareness. Dante’s eyes opened, sharp and dark, scanning the forest with the instinctive precision that...