"Where the fuck is your father?!" I snarled, my voice echoing throughout the hall.

Dante flinched like I’d slapped him. We stood just outside the blood-soaked hospital, my fists clenched so tight the skin split across my knuckles. Blood ran down my hands, hot and furious. I didn’t even feel it.

“I—I don’t know,” Dante stammered, eyes wide. “I swear, I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” I snapped, stepping toward him. “You’re his son. You know something.”

“I don’t know where he is,” he insisted, desperation clawing at his voice. “But I heard Loki. Last night, when I saw them together—I heard Loki tell him to meet him… in a...