LIA’S POV

The atmosphere in the safe house is unbearable.

Dante has not said a word for hours.

He is positioned by the window, facing away from me, a silhouette against the faint light of the streetlamps beyond. His fingers curl at his sides, his jaw fixed in position. He appears to be a man who is struggling to keep himself intact.

And I understand the reason.

Since Antonio is still living.

And since Dante holds himself responsible.

I adjust my position, grimacing ...