DANTE’S POV

Saint, I called in my mind, my chest pulsing faster.

“It’s okay,” he responded, his voice an anchor to the bedlam in me. I could feel the weight of his struggle. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself forward from the place where he had lain almost dormant for weeks now, trying to reveal himself again.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

Saint and I hadn’t agreed on much lately. He had withdrawn, silent, as though punishing me for my choices. And ...