The grand doors shut behind them with a deep, echoing finality.
Lana forced herself to breathe. In. Out. Even as every nerve in her body screamed at her to turn around, to fight, to run. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not with Matteo’s life hanging in the balance.
Dean walked beside her, his steps unhurried, his presence suffocating. His men trailed a few feet behind, their presence a silent warning.
He was in complete control.
And he knew it.
They entered the main hall, the chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow against the dark marble floors. It was opulent, vast, and pristine—a cruel contrast to the raw terror curling in Lana’s stomach.
Dean finally stopped at the base of the grand staircase and turned to her, his dark eyes drinking her in.
“You made the right decision,” he murmured
