Lia’s POV

“No!” I ran to Dante, pressing my palms against the recently opened gash. He gasped, his skin draining to ghostly pale. Van fired twice. Antonio's body convulsed—that time, for good. The gun fell from his fingers, thumping onto the floor. But I didn't care. “Dante, stay with me,” I entreated. "Do you hear me?" His eyelids flinched. "Tired," he said. Van crouched beside me, scanning the room. "We have to get out. Now." Footsteps pounded against the hallway. ...