Lia's pov

That night, the house had a different sensation. Not in a manner anyone else would perceive—not in how the walls stood, or how the air flowed, or how the floor groaned beneath feet. However, in the manner it concluded. As if it was aware of what was about to happen. Lia perched on the bed's edge, gazing at the faint light of the lamp beside the nightstand. Her hands rested in her lap, yet she still sensed the tension in them. The fatigue in her bones. Dante emerged from the ...