Dante’s pov

The night was quiet, yet I understood more. Elena was present. In a location. Observing. Awaiting. We selected the battleground—a deserted warehouse on the outskirts of town, neglected and overlooked, much like the lives she had ruined. The atmosphere was heavy with dust and the persistent smell of oil and rust. Shadows elongated beneath the faint overhead lights, wavering as if aware of the impending violence. Lia remained a few steps behind me, while Luca was securely ...