Dante’s pov

The weight of the gun still lingered in the air, the scent of gunpowder mixing with the salt of the ocean breeze. Elena lay on the floor, her breathing shallow, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. But I didn’t look at her. I looked at Lia. She hadn’t moved. Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched my wrist, her eyes locked on Elena’s fallen form. Nico crouched beside Elena, pressing his knee into her back, keeping her down as he pressed his gun against her temple. ...