The city was alive with quiet menace. Streetlights glimmered against puddles, and the air smelled faintly of smoke and rain, a lingering reminder of the chaos Dante and I had narrowly survived. Every sound—the distant hum of a car, the drip of water from a cracked gutter—felt amplified in the tense silence. My body still hummed from the previous fight, muscles taut with adrenaline, heart still racing from the closeness of Dante’s body pressed against mine, and the heat lingering in the stolen moments between us.

He moved ahead, a shadow among shadows, every step deliberate, every muscle primed. The dark leather jacket clung to his form, accentuating the breadth...