Dante’s pov

The morning light through thin curtains, softly radiant in the space. The quiet, peace, the kind of morning I hadn’t dared to imagine in years. Lia slept on by my side, slow and regular in breath, her hand lying softly on my chest. For the first time in years, there was no panic. No threat in sight. And yet, something in me persisted. An undercurrent of quiet unease that did not fully abate. I carefully rose, not to disturb her, and made my way to the window. The world ...