Dante’s POV

Lia didn’t speak, but no word was necessary. The way she looked up to me, the way her breath hesitated in her throat as my fingers brushed against her cheek—all of that said plenty. For the first time in years, I didn't feel the need to prove something. Not to her. And certainly not to myself. She saw me, and not the feared, not the leader, and not the protector. Only Dante. And for the first time, it did prove to be adequate. I wrapped my arms around her, holding on to ...