Valeria

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack them.

Every beat echoed louder in my ears, faster, wilder, as if my body already knew what my mind refused to accept. Dante stood there like a statue carved from ice and fury, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the hooded figure between his men. Only God—and Dante—knew who was under that black bag. Only they knew what fresh hell he was about to drag into this room.

I couldn’t breathe right. My fingers dug into ...