I didn’t sleep that night. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying every conversation with Dante. Every reassurance. Every promise.

“I’m not afraid of your power.” “I want you to embrace every bit of power you have.” “Your power doesn’t define you. Your choices do.”

All lies? Or just partial truths hiding a darker reality — that his support had limits, that he was preparing to neutralize me if I crossed some invisible line?

By dawn, I’d made a decision. ...