The night clung to the city like a shroud, damp and heavy, carrying the scent of rain and smoke. Every street we turned down was slick and reflective, the neon lights fractured in puddles, echoing the chaos inside me. My body was still buzzing from the fight at the safe house, every nerve alive with adrenaline and the lingering heat of Dante pressed against me. He moved beside me with lethal precision, yet there was an unmistakable softness in the way he watched me, as if every step I took was a risk he was willing to take.

“They won’t stop,” Dante muttered, voice low, carrying that dark, dangerous timbre...