The morning sun rose higher, slicing through the leaves above their secluded clearing. Rays of golden light danced across the forest floor, catching on strands of Isabella’s hair as she stirred in Dante’s arms. The air was cool and fresh, scented with pine and damp earth, but his warmth enveloped her like a shield. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t wake to fear. There were no footsteps in the dark, no gunfire echoing in her mind, no haunting shadows of the past. There was only him.

Dante.

His arm was draped over her waist, his hand resting against her stomach. The touch was both protective and...