The first light of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, turning the edges of the room gold. Isabella stirred, her breath catching when she realized the weight against her wasn’t a pillow—it was Dante.

His arm was wrapped around her waist like he was afraid to let go, his body warm against her back. For a long moment, she didn’t move. She just listened—to his heartbeat, steady and real beneath her palm. After everything they had been through, every danger, every betrayal, every wound that nearly tore them apart… he was still here.

Her chest ached. Not from pain, but from the sheer depth of emotion she didn’t know how...