The rain hammered down relentlessly, turning the streets into rivers of liquid glass. Each puddle reflected the neon chaos of the city, fractured and twisted, mirroring the storm inside me. Dante’s hand was still tight around mine, and his body pressed close, every heartbeat and every breath a tether I couldn’t break free from.

“They’ll come for us again,” he muttered, eyes scanning the slick streets. His jaw was set, and the predatory glint in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. “And next time, they won’t be careless.”

I shivered, partly from cold, partly from the heat radiating off him. “Then we don’t wait. We strike first,” I...