Tiberius‘ pov.

Later that evening, I found myself speaking with Dante. He noticed the tension in my shoulders, the tightness around my jaw.

"You okay?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

I exhaled slowly. "I don’t know. Everything—all of this—has me thinking. During the war, I had a purpose. Protect them. Protect her. Fight. Win. But now..."

I trailed off, staring into the flames dancing in the hearth.

Dante nodded. "I get it. Dorian’s found his ...