Brutus’s roar tore through the night once more.
“I’ll ask one last time!” he thundered. “Who laid hands on my brother? Come out now, or I’ll burn every last corner of this place!”
His voice ricocheted through the narrow alleys, rattling loose shutters and splintered doors. Lights vanished one after another. Curtains snapped shut. The villagers knew better than to look—when Brutus arrived, mercy never followed.
Inside the crumbling house, Elias and Miriam Beckwood clung to Dante as though he were the only solid thing left in the world. Miriam’s frail fingers dug into his sleeve until her knuckles went pale. Elias murmured broken prayers under his breath, his lips shaking uncontrollably.
Dante rested a steady hand over theirs, his expression calm, unwavering.
“There’s no danger,” he sai
