Dante’s POV

The house was too quiet. The kind of silence that meant she knew. She knew I was here. Knew there was no more running. I stepped through the ruined doorway, my breath slow, measured. Controlled. Lia stood in the middle of the room, her chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. She wasn’t just trapped. She was cornered. I let the moment stretch, let her feel the weight of it. Of me. Then—I moved. Two strides. That’s all it took. She flinched but held her ground, ...