(Alina’s POV)
It took me a few days for my leg to get back into shape. Long, slow days spent being touched and watched by the one person I had no business craving. Dante wasn’t just dangerous, he was a wildfire, and I was the i***t dancing through the smoke, pretending I wouldn't burn. But I was burning so I left.
I didn’t give anyone time to talk me out of it. I packed my things in a small duffel bag, ignored the ache in my healing leg, and boarded the first bus out of that house. Out of him.
The bus ride wasn’t long, but it felt like forever. I kept my face turned toward the window, pretending the raindrops streaking down the glass were more interesting than the text messages I wasn’t answering.
Three missed calls from Ethan.
Two unread messages from Dante.
I deleted the second wit
