The silence after that near-kiss was louder than any gunfire I’d heard tonight.

Dante had pulled away first, his jaw tight, his breath ragged, his eyes dark as the room itself. He’d left me suspended in a state between fury and want, a taut string straining to snap. I hated him for having that kind of power over me. I hated myself even more for craving the touch he denied me.

Now, the safehouse was nothing but shadows and silence. A single lamp cast a dull golden circle in the corner, and everything else was swallowed by night. Dante stood near the window, his figure tall, broad, immovable, like some...