ELENA’S POV
The knock came again.
Soft. Controlled. Like whoever stood on the other side already knew they’d be let in.
Giovanni didn’t reach for his gun. That told me more than words ever could.
He opened the door.
Dante stepped inside.
He looked wrong.
Not injured….at least not visibly, but stripped down somehow. No coat. No tie. Just a dark shirt clinging to him like he’d put it on in a hurry. His eyes found Luca first, asleep on the couch, then lifted to me.
And stopped.
The room felt smaller the moment our eyes locked onto each other.
“Elena,” he said.
Just my name.
Not an explanation. Not an apology.
I didn’t answer.
He took one step forward, then stopped himself, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to cross that space anymore.
Giovanni cleared his throat. “I’ll be outs
